Hawkeye: Civil War
by Jesuslovesmarina
Summary: The Avengers are DIVIDED! An angsty, action-packed adventure featuring a boatload of characters from Marvel universe- including Big Hero 6, Kate Bishop, and Agents of SHIELD! Will Clint be able to survive while caught between two factions of Avengers? Will he make it back home to his wife and kids? Will Steve ever get a girlfriend? And what is Maria Hill's true identity? Read on...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Have I mentioned I'm a HUGE Hawkeye fan? Like, huge. I've been working on this story for quite a while so I hope y'all enjoy it. I have finished the story for the most part so updates will be 2-3 times a week. DISCLAIMER: If I owned Marvel, Hawkeye really would live forever, and he would've had more awesome moments in the CW trailers (: So obviously, I don't.**

 **HAWKEYE**

became the greatest sharpshooter known to man.

Then he joined the **Avengers**.

This is what he does when he's **being** an Avenger.

 **[** That's all you need to know **]**

Hawkeye: Civil War

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, Sharon Carter came to visit Avengers Tower.

Once upon a time, she talked for hours on end in our briefing room about the most boring intel the CIA could manage to drum up, while Steve gazed goo-goo eyed at her as his nerdy little brain absorbed it all like hers was the most interesting briefing since SHIELD collapsed.

I gazed over at Natasha and yawned pointedly. She ignored me.

Bruce sat across from us, fidgeting uncomfortably at being in Nat's presence after his recent decision to disappear.

She was ignoring him, too, adding more points to my theory that she was making it her business that day to ignore everybody in the room until the briefing was done.

"So you're saying the vibranium mine we crashed while fighting Ultron wasn't just mining the metal for harmless civilian purposes?" Bruce Banner cocked an eyebrow, leaning over the briefing table with Sharon across from him.

I stifled another yawn and sat forward so I didn't fall right out of my chair.

At least I could understand the words Sharon was saying when Bruce repeated them, in English, for my benefit.

Tony sat on the other side, his feet propped comfortably on the table, pushing his chair back to dangerous limits. I met eyes with him and smirked. "Look, Cap here told us that Fury was still alive," Tony waved aimlessly in Sharon's direction, "but who are YOU exactly?" He was looking like he had exactly thirty seconds before he bolted out of here and back to working on his cars in the basement.

"Fury wants to make sure someone keeps an eye on it," Sharon shrugged. "He's in Antarctica, about to freeze out the one eye he's got left and no one bothered to tell _me_ why. I'm not even part of SHIELD anymore. The fricking organization's totally rebuilt but I'm not even supposed to be in it."

I laughed at her. I was beyond feeling guilty for how rude it sounded. "Then why are you coming here? You want us to take our baby Avengers out of the training center and ship them out to be guard dogs?"

"Because Mr. One-Eyed Wonder himself thinks it would be 'most effectively manageable' if we kept this completely, and totally, private," she glared at me. I just grinned, making Steve add his own glare to the mix. "And apparently we have a mole," Sharon added irritably.

"A mole?" Natasha asked incredulously. "SHIELD was literally _just_ rebuilt."

Sharon let out a huge, rage-filled sigh. "Yes, we have a _mole_ ," she said pointedly, looking over at Natasha.

The two of them never got along. Two headstrong women—make that VERY headstrong—in the same melting pot and you're gonna get some lumps. Big ones. With barbs on the outside.

"These things exist in top-secret organizations," Sharon continued patronizingly, "even ones that get overturned and rebuilt and overturned again. And the mole may or may not be connected to our overhead, so Fury's independently contracting the Avengers to look after the vibranium factory and King T'Challa, since he owns it and, according to our records, is _very_ good with technology. He's the one we're worried about. If our mole is connected to him, then things could get very—"

"RRRIIIINNNGGGG!"

Everyone turned to look at—

Me!

Embarrassed, I pulled my phone from my pocket—the flip phone, 'cause I'm old fashioned that way—and started to get up.

"Tell Mrs. Barton 'hi' for me," Tony said immediately.

I gaped at him. "What did I tell you?" I hissed, indicating Sharon, the one unknowing person in the room, with a nod.

"That your wife is a very secret person that should not be mentioned at any cost?" Tony guessed with a wince.

I turned to Steve as I got up from his chair and headed out. "Remind me to kill him later."

Steve nodded his affirmation.

Red-faced and guilty, I managed to get out of there before anyone else made any snarky comments, answering my phone once I was in the hall.

Even though my team knows about my family now, it's still a hassle to separate work life and home life. Even harder, actually, now that Tony wants to know every nitty-gritty detail of how each of our children were originally conceived and where my model-T Ford came from and whether or not pigs fly south for the winter.

I'm not complaining too much. I've got a great team, and an even better family. It's still a pain to manage sometimes.

"Hello?" I answered quietly, pressing the top end to my ear. The sound was a little off, and I winced when it came through. I'd been meaning to adjust my hearing aids. Sometimes, being in one room where the voices echo off the walls one way is different than being in another room.

"Hey," I heard Laura on the other end after I'd adjusted them. "How'd the tests come through?"

"You're a brave soul," I warned her. "Asking the tough questions. Remind me again, when's the last time YOU had a physical?"

A short pause. I smiled.

"I just had a baby," she pointed out eventually.

"See? All the more reason," I teased.

"I think you're tiptoeing around my question, honey."

I sighed. "I don't know," I groaned over the speaker, not wanting to think about it.

SHIELD wasn't too nitpicky these days. They needed anyone they could get.

Phil, however, was altogether too close of a friend to _not_ be nitpicky when it came to me.

Last month, shortly after coming back from my blissful paternity leave, I took one for the team and wound up captured by an enemy agency. They had an extreme and unhealthy obsession with knocking me unconscious each time they wanted to take me somewhere for interrogation. I've got a hard head, though, so I figured it wouldn't take too long to get back on my feet.

But 'on my feet' apparently wasn't good enough for Coulson.

"Long story short, it sucks," I managed a halfhearted laugh, and gulped before continuing. "I talked to Coulson. He says—" I stopped, suddenly finding it hard to speak.

I didn't know why. I guess it was because I was scared this time, and that's not something I feel often.

"He says I might be out."

I could hear Laura's hesitancy on the other end.

Problem with phones is, you can't really tell what the other person is feeling. You hear their voice, but a pause could mean anything, whether it's that a person just walked by with Mickey Mouse ears on, or you're trying not to cry.

"For how long?" she breathed at last, cautiously, worried.

I couldn't answer, because I didn't know. I just didn't know.

Did the others notice how much I wasn't paying attention today, I wondered, or how it took me a second to remember how to write my own name earlier, or how I didn't even remember we had a meeting with Sharon until Natasha came and found me?

Maybe they did, but realistically, the probably didn't guess why. Right? Or maybe they just didn't care.

I was still trying to decide whether or not my mental testing scores from earlier scared me as much as they did Coulson, or whether I wanted to ignore them and keep wheeling and dealing, whatever that looked like now. I didn't know what to think.

"Clint?"

I shivered slightly. "Sorry," I mumbled into the phone. "Just deep in thought, is all."

"Are you okay?" Laura's voice was soft, sympathetic.

I sighed, glancing back toward the briefing room. "Yeah. I'll be careful until I can come home, and sort this out. You know I will be. The team is good—you've met them now," I changed the subject with a grin.

"I'm guessing they don't know?" I could practically _hear_ her raised eyebrow.

"Nooo," I groaned, perhaps a little too loudly. "I'm not gonna tell them, Laura! They'll get all excited about it and then I'll get kicked off the Avengers and have an even bigger mess to deal with."

"Alright," another pause.

She didn't like it that I kept secrets from my team, and I got that. I need some stuff private, though. I've been jilted one too many times, frankly. She was okay with my keeping them and the farm a secret for safety purposes, but I knew she always secretly hoped I'd change my mind. That was why I'd felt okay with surprise-crashing them into the house during the Ultron uprising.

"Just—come back safe."

"Always do," I answered bluntly.

She snorted. "That's not true, as much as I would love to stoke your ego."

"Okay, _almost_ always do," I grinned. "It's me, Laura, what's the worst that could happen, right?"

"Oh, you're hilarious," she groaned. "Just get out there and don't do anything too crazy, alright?"

"I'll try not to," I promised, smiling. "I love you."

"I love you too, Soldier."

"Baby bear."

"Lovey bumpkins."

"Smootchipoo."

When I hung up, I turned around only to be faced with none other than Agent Maria Hill.

I did NOT make a very unmanly squeal and jump six inches in the air, but Maria DID fix me with a stare of unwarranted condescension.

I opened my mouth and closed it for a second, trying to think of what to say. "Hi," I finally settled, not coming up with anything.

"Was that your wife?" Maria asked, her normally emotionless eyes expressing some small concern.

I shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed at one eye while slipping the phone into my pocket. "Yeah," I finally confessed, blowing out a long breath. "Yeah, it was."

"Clint, I saw your test results," she admitted with a frown.

"Did you?" I demanded angrily. "You been spying on me, Agent Hill?"

"It's not 'Agent' anymore, and no, Coulson told me."

"Sounds like you're still an agent to me, if you've still got Level 9 security clearance," I narrowed my eyes at her.

Dirty business, sneaking into someone's personal files like that. Especially when they have recent, _sensitive_ information in them.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Maria surprised me by saying genuinely. "SHIELD is losing one of its most valuable operatives."

"'Preciate it," I stared back, trying to take the information in stride and not let it get to him. "I'm not out yet," I added, in the most confident voice I could muster. "Not yet."

"We'll try to keep you on. You know that, right?"

"You're not gonna tell the team?" I asked tensely.

"The team doesn't know yet?" she turned in the direction of the closed briefing room.

I shook my head.

"I know it's—none of my business to ask what your wife thinks…" she began awkwardly.

"No, no," I grabbed my phone, looking at it for a second before putting it right back in my pocket. I don't know why I pulled it out in the first place. "Laura's cool with—with weird things—happening. She'll help me out, too. She knows this stuff. It's kind of what she went to college for."

"At least that must help."

"Yeah, yeah, it does."

"Well, anyway," Maria held out a hand. "Good luck, Clint."

"Thanks," I shook it.

Not one to waste any time, Hill turned immediately and began walking in the direction of her office, leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief. At least the team didn't know. Not yet.

… … … …

There had probably been one too many late-night expos at Stark Tower, aka Avengers Tower, now that there was an 'us _'._

Bands played, lights floated overhead seemingly by magic; courtesy of some last-minute decoration technology Tony had pulled out of the lab for Pepper to use. They were actually like giant floating orbs, casting warm yet futuristic-looking light over the whole lawn.

The press was everywhere, behaving decently and actually seeming to enjoy the party for once. There were also an overwhelming number of distinguished guests, common citizens, and old friends.

"Hey, Clint!"

I turned just enough to see Tony Stark come striding through the crowds of partygoers, a grin on his face that was one part show-guy and two parts mischief.

I threw up one hand, the one that wasn't holding a shot glass. "Where you been all this time?" I complained with a grin. "This is your party. Thought you'd be in the center of it."

Tony clapped a hand on my back as we started walking together across the grassy lawn. "Yeah, well, paparazzi don't come up with their own stories. I was busy."

Steve emerged from the crowd as well and joined us. "I was under the impression that it was their job to come up with whatever they wanted," he smiled.

For being an old miser, the Cap seemed to be enjoying the night at Stark Tower as well as anybody else.

Tony wrinkled up his face for a second, and the three of us stopped in tandem. "Is that—is that forties music?" he glared pointedly at Steve, noticing for the first time. "We have a problem when Pepper starts liking you more than me."

I laughed. The swanky tunes of the good old days were, sure enough, playing in the background as partygoers mingled and tapped their fingers and toes absentmindedly to the music.

Steve shrugged innocently. "Well, I can't help it if I have that 'timeless charisma'."

"Oh, give me a break," I snorted, poking him in the side. "Didn't you come with a girlfriend or something?"

Tony looked up interestedly, eager to hear the latest gossip. "Steve?" he asked, pointedly, a grin growing on his face.

Steve looked away, trying to suppress a grin. "Sam is actually busy trying to schmooze her right now," he admitted at last.

Tony let out a shout of triumph. "YOU?" I poked at him. "Captain America brought a date? Do you realize how long that's been since that happened?"

"Yeah, nearly eighty years, I know, I know," Steve attempted to shrug it off, but anybody could tell he was mightily pleased with himself. He hiked a thumb in the direction of the seating area. "I'd better get back to her. Don't screw up on us later," he pointed at Tony jokingly.

"Do you not realize how many tech expos I've put on over the years? Pepper's got this in the bag."

"Yeah, well, I saw your dad's expo at the World Fair. His flying car collapsed halfway into the show. And if my face is on this new doohickey you schemed up with Banner…"

"You and your endless vanity," Tony sighed dramatically.

"Go find Sharon, Cap. Tony's done this plenty of times," I defended him with a grin.

"I better not get up on that stage and be expected to sing and dance!" Steve shook his finger in Tony's direction.

"I will make you do that just for saying it," Tony replied. "Or maybe, sock Hitler in the jaw."

It was back to just the two of us again.

"Can you believe that? Too-nice-for-his-own-good with Agent Cynic-ide?" Tony peered into my drink, gave me a contemptuous look, and swiped a 'better' one off of a tray that went by, along with one for himself.

"Yeah, and Banner's with Natasha, isn't he?" I squinted toward the seats up front. Even through the crowd, I could see the two of them holding hands and laughing about something ridiculous.

"They've been in each other's laps ever since the briefing ended," Tony rolled his eyes. "Had some kind of sappy fallout, and they made up. All within the last seventy-two hours. Hard to believe she's legit, if you know what I mean, but Hulk's happy with it for now, so I'm happy. So long as the lab stays somewhat intact when she's around. What's the story with you two, anyway?"

"What, me and Natasha?" I scoffed.

"Well, I figured after this point, if you're not going to blame me for Ultron, your secret's safe with me." Tony shrugged.

I smirked at him. "You and all your juicy details. Who're you going to feed them to, FRIDAY?"

He was trying to act indifferent, and failing. "Oh, well, you know. Don't friends kind of know each other's backstories, or at least something to that effect? We all know Steve's, but that's kind of cheating. Even if I did breeze through fourth-grade history in two weeks, which I did."

I downed the small glass I was holding, causing Tony to lean in in anticipation. "It sure is a great story," was all I said, grinning at him.

He gave me the most pitifully disappointed look I'd ever seen. "That's it? You're not gonna tell me anything?!"

"Have you met the woman you're asking me about? I value my life," I shrugged, laughing at him.

Truth is, I found Natasha when she was just a kid. Fifteen years old, trying to seduce a U.S. Senator in some hotel basement. She broke my knee, got me eight months of physical therapy.

Come to think of it, physical therapy was where I met Laura. She was just a student then, volunteering. She ended up becoming a special education teacher (and my wife) and the rest was history.

I think Natasha showed up again somewhere in there, too, but I wasn't about to tell Tony that.

"I give up," Tony shrugged. "I'm going to find Pepper. You're welcome to do—whatever it is you do, now that Natasha's taken and your wife's not here and you don't have a date," he stuck his lip out sadly.

"Ha! You make that sound like such a bad thing. I'm a free man over here, Tony."

"Honestly? I envy you. Don't disappear before curtain; I need you on stage."

"Whatever, Tony."

"I'm serious!" he pointed at me, walking backwards back through the crowd. "I need someone to be the face of Excelsior, and there's no one I'd rather have up there than my team. Don't let me down."

I smiled. "You know I'd never actually disappear."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"Excelsior? That's a stupid name," I called after him, but all he reacted with was a knowing, but excited, look.

He disappeared into the throng, leaving me twirling an empty glass, gazing out at the masses of New York dignitaries who had gathered to see the latest collection of Stark and Banner collaborative creations.

The night seemed to be going pretty well, which didn't surprise me, since we'd finally managed to talk the sciencies out of making the Vision part of the performance. He was going up on stage, of course, with the rest of us, but a guy like that—with a mind to rival either of the scientists and a strong personality to match—didn't belong under the title 'invention'. He was just a guy, even if he was a weird human-hybrid-robot-alien-clone. Even the thought of degrading him like that was weird.

Natasha was now bickering in a friendly way with Sam and Sharon. Bruce was still hovering close by, smartly dressed for the exposition and dumbfounding at least thirteen fellow science enthusiasts gathered in a circle around him while not moving one hand from where it encircled Natasha's waist.

She was allowing it.

In public—hmm, in VERY public.

My eyebrows went up—Laura had evidently been correct about the whole—relationship—thing.

Well, that wasn't awkward at all.

Good for him, I guess.

Sam was making a pleasant fool of himself as usual. I smirked when I saw him attempting to hit up on Sharon, only to be interrupted by Steve, who bent down and kissed her right in front of him.

Sam reacted like someone had torched his eyeballs. Even I was surprised. I guess Steve moves fast for an old guy.

Even Scarlet Witch and Vision were hovering on the outskirts of the property, having some kind of meaningful, probably telepathic, conversation about how many hamsters they would sacrifice for one another's love or something.

Everyone was present, in fact, except for Thor, and that was because he was on Asgard with his girlfriend attempting to solve some weird problem they were having up there relating to more aliens coming to attack either them, the Earth, or both.

I had to suppress a smile as I wandered toward the bar to grab another drink.

It seemed the whole team was settling down, just as it came.

We'd gotten to know each other better than I ever dreamed possible, especially with my own family being such a huge secret. I trusted each and every one of them.

Except—of course, with that-which-I-still-hadn't-figured-out-how-to-tell-them.

I've been forced to turn my back on nearly every mentor I've had, fighting them with the same skills they originally taught me. First Duquesne by stealing from the circus, then my brother by trying to win him over with loyalty (and failing). Then Trick faced off with me in a battle of carnie shootouts, and the Swordsman came back a second time to challenge me to a duel, which I lost. I've been stabbed in the back by worse friends, honestly.

I don't trust people easily.

 _But the Avengers are different,_ I thought, partly reluctant and partly relieved. I figured I _would_ tell them, even if it turned out I didn't have to. It was worth the embarrassment to know that somebody was out there to watch my back when things weren't going well.

Laura once asked me if I was sure this team was really a team. If they really cared about me.

Tonight, I finally knew the answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to my new followers! This chapter is a little shorter, but more is coming. MUCH, MUCH more. Pleeeeease review, with candy and birthday cake on top? Love y'all! ~Marina**

Chapter 2

"Can I have your attention, please? Excuse me, hey! Mad scientist in a suit talking!" Tony's voice came loud over the speakers. He reached up with a wince, and adjusted his headset microphone before giving the entire audience a huge, stage-practiced grin.

I slipped into a seat near the front, giving Nat a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. She glanced over the back of the seat and flashed me a brief smile.

I was shocked. Usually all I got for touching her was a glare. When had she become so—normal?

"The fact that I am even wearing this suit should, honestly, be impressive enough," Tony continued, "There's a few of you in this crowd who know exactly what I looked like five minutes before this gig started, so you should really be impressed. I mean, really impressed with Miss Pepper Potts, who put this whole thing on!"

The crowd, now mainly seated, followed his lead and erupted into applause and cheering.

I turned around and saw Pepper seated in the back, blushing a bright pink as she beamed up at Tony and the applause that was directed toward her. I grinned. She'd probably decided to sit back there because she was just waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Although, for once, it looked like one of Tony's expos was going to continue without a hitch.

"So, as you've all seen, we've got some sweet tech here tonight," Tony continued when the applause subsided. "But as shocking as this may be to some of you, it wasn't all made by me. My good friend, Dr. Bruce Banner, contributed over half of it, and so if you see anything that looks like it's more of a contribution to the general welfare of humanity, you owe that one to him."

The crowd was more hesitant this time. The press HATED Bruce, to all of our equal dismay. But, me and the others in the front row started clapping almost immediately and the effect was contagious.

Bruce, seated next to Natasha, began flushing as well with pleasure and embarrassment. Nat smiled and placed an excited hand on his knee. If anything, this would show him just how much he really meant to the world, not as a monster to strike terror in their hearts but as the brilliant, conscientious scientist that he was.

Tony waved a hand to draw the crowd back in. "Some of the inventions here tonight represent change. The cordless cardio defibrillator system, made by Dr. Banner—big surprise there—" everyone choked back a few unexpected laughs, "—would be explained a lot more eloquently if he was up here telling you about it, but it's gonna save a lot of lives. I mean, just think about a bunch of doctors and nurses—" here he began awkwardly miming out the situation, "—trying to shock a dead guy back to life, and here's this—cord—in the way, and they're walking all the way around it and getting tangled and falling on each other's faces, and—"

Bruce had leaned forward with his face in his hands, choking back laughter, and everyone else was laughing uproariously at Tony's mock impression of emergency room life.

Tony stopped to partly regain his dignity. "—I should stop talking about this, shouldn't I?"

I glanced back at Pepper a second time. She was trying to avoid snorting into her wine glass. If Tony could avoid offending anyone with his terrible jokes, the remainder of the expo might actually be a success.

On stage, Tony relaxed and grinned. "But on the topic of healthcare and general—uh, wellness—we have Pepper's personal favorite contribution to tonight's expo. She didn't choose any of mine, just so you know. The giant inflatable marshmallow robot you saw chasing a stray cat around earlier is Baymax, a personal healthcare robot, programmed with over 60-something-thousand medical procedures. The prototype was created by a specialist in robotics, Tadashi Hamada, a third-year robotics student from San Fransokyo Institute of Technology."

He waited for the applause to die down before continuing soberly.

"Now, Tadashi wasn't able to be here with us today, because shortly after creating the prototype, he was killed in an accidental fire. Despite that," he continued, after a moment of silence, "his brother, Hiro, has travelled all this way to perform the demonstrations you saw earlier of his brother's original concepts, and his own continuing work on the Baymax project."

Applause filled the air again and I looked over at the lanky, dark-haired teenager beaming away on the other side of the front row. He had another girl with short black hair, slouching and unashamedly chewing on a wad of Double-Bubble in her formal wear, to his right, and a muscled guy in dreadlocks and a headband on his left. The three of them exchanged congratulatory fist bumps when Tony finished his speech about them.

"All right, I think I'm done," Tony waved to the crowd, starting to walk off the stage. The crowd immediately uproared, making him turn around in feigned confusion. "Wait, what? I already explained the tech, what more do you want me to say?"

The crowd continued to yell unintelligible things around my head, but clearly they were demanding something. I wished I'd remembered to read the pamphlets Natasha had given me on what was supposed to happen tonight. All I knew, because Tony and pretty much everyone else had reminded me at least twelve times, was that I was supposed to go on stage for part of it.

" _Yes, you have to wear a_ tie _, Barton,"_ Natasha had scolded me beforehand, about ready to throw in the towel. _"You have done far riskier things with your appearance. The last time you tried to argue with me on this and I broke your nose for it?_ On. Now _."_

I got the feeling that part was coming up.

"Oh," Tony nodded snarkily, pretending to finally understand. "You want to hear about the Excelsior Project?"

The crowd erupted with a loud cheer that nearly took my hearing aids off their normal setting. I winced and turned them down, sitting up a little straighter to see what exactly was going on.

"Oh, that's just a side project," Tony wrinkled his nose and shook his head at them. "It's nothing of any real importance!"

The loud protestations resumed, and a chant started growing within the crowd.

"Excelsior! Excelsior! Excelsior!"

Tony grinned, unabashedly adoring the entertainment portion of his role. "Oh, well," he feigned casualness, "If you all REALLY want to see it, I guess—"

The noise level increased almost to the point of fervent screaming. I looked around in bewilderment. Nearly everyone was on their feet. It was as if the formal party had suddenly transformed into a hip-hop concert and the rich and uptight distinguished guests had transformed into addicted consumerist fans.

Tony's exuberant voice interrupted my thoughts. "Well, if that's the case, then why don't we get all the Avengers up here?" The crowd erupted into wild, finally satisfied, applause.

Standing up, I edged my way out of my seat. Me and the others made our way to the side stairway, where we climbed single-file up the stage to stand with Tony.

Vision and Rhodey went up stage left, while Bruce, Natasha, myself, Steve, Sam, and Wanda all lined up on the right, beaming and squinting into the limelight together. Of all of us, only Wanda betrayed any hint of nervousness.

It was hard to imagine we had all been once so media-shy—well, except for Tony, obviously.

I wiped the sweat off my own palms and gave Wanda a reassuring nod, causing her to visibly relax a little and smile back.

Tony, to the crowd's astonishment, handed Bruce a handheld mic. They all waited with bated breath to hear what he might say.

"Well, 'Excelsior'," Bruce began in his gentle, yet clearly still excited, fashion, "for those of you who are more into math and science than English grammar, is a word that means 'excellence'. It's a word that we're all very attracted to here at Stark Industries, particularly myself, because it represents what we're trying to do with the Avengers Initiative—"

"Even though we're usually failing miserably at it," Tony interjected.

Everyone laughed.

Bruce smiled and continued. "Tony's right. As all of you know from the press releases about Ultron, we are sometimes a bit—disorganized—when it comes to the way we run our missions. We all managed to get dressed up pretty snazzy tonight," he looked over the group with pride, especially down at Natasha, who merely caught his eye and returned the look, "but that's usually not the way it works," he continued more seriously. "We operate on a few basic principles: someone's attacking the Earth, we hear about it, and we go try and stop them and save any civilians we can in the process."

To my left, Steve's mic-less voice interjected. "I disagree," he countered with a halfhearted, teasing smile.

Although the crowd laughed, my brow furrowed and I tried not to show my own discomfort. I couldn't help but be concerned about where Bruce was going with this.

My arms tensed up like they did when I was about to start shooting my bow. A casual glance down the line told me that I wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Tony pointed over at Steve in a teasing gesture. "He's the team leader—you should listen to him. Don't listen to the rest of us. I'll just hand this over," he grabbed his headset mic as if he was about to take it off and the crowd laughed again.

Bruce turned to him and shrugged. "That's all I have," he smiled, slightly awkward.

Tony quickly took up the slack. "The point is," he addressed the crowd, "whether or not there's good guys around, there's always going to be bad guys. And if there are bad guys that originate in our own labs, then how many more of them have the potential to start dropping from the sky like they did during the Battle of Manhattan? Remember that?" he asked the crowd, seriously. "Invasion of the Chitauri? Flying metal scorpions dropping from the sky? Loki of Asgard in control of it all? Things have gotten even more real since then, people."

I frowned and glanced over at Nat. She was holding hands with Bruce.

Rhodey seemed patriotically fascinated in what Tony was saying, like he was about to salute or something.

Sam looked like he was about to shoot daggers from under his eyebrows in the direction of the podium.

I felt about the same as Falcon looked.

We don't _talk_ about this stuff.

The Battle of New York—SHIELD had kept that under wraps for a reason. Was Tony just going to invite panic into a group of massively wealthy, all-powerful scientists and politicians? Would he really be that stupid?

He _did_ create Ultron…

I started getting a very bad feeling. My eyes shot over to Nat, Bruce, Rhodes; anybody close enough to Tony to tell him to back down. He just happened to be surrounded by those who apparently weren't planning to. I edged closer, but Natasha noticed. She gave me a sharp look and I furrowed my eyebrows at her in return.

" _What the heck, Nat?"_ my look was supposed to communicate.

A silence had settled over the crowd and Tony squared his shoulders. "The team and I," he gestured to all of us on stage, "have decided that _now_ is the time to start preparing for a future which may or may not include aliens, gods, and other powers far beyond our comprehension, coming to Earth and making themselves known in less than peaceful, well-meaning ways. If we just sit back and pretend that life is one big party, then what will happen to the next generation when they come to face a threat they can't handle? The Avengers are great right now, but we're not as great as we could be. We won't last forever, either. Right now there are an estimated 3,400 superpowered or otherwise extremely talented individuals, of all ages, living on this planet. Some of them may not even be human."

There was an uncomfortable silence that emanated from the crowd, but settled more deeply with those of us on stage.

I was getting an urge to strangle Tony and drag him from the stage before he did any more harm. But what good would that do? I forced myself to stay planted where I was, and attempt to ride this out.

Those numbers—my brain whirled. How did he get those numbers?

"What if all these forces had a way to become instantly unified?" Tony's voice was low, and genuinely passionate. I hadn't the slightest doubt he thought everything he was saying would be for the greater good. He had NO idea. "A piece of technology that streamed information from across the globe into one giant database, organized and primed for action in any crisis? An automatic registration of every superhero on the planet?"

God help us, it was getting worse.

"Every experimental creature, mutant, alien, genius, or special operative worthy of taking note of, in the event that the world just—decides to crumble beneath us. It's happened before," Tony pointed out, "And if the sudden disappearance of my buddy Thor is any indication, it's about to happen again. So we're not waiting to see what will happen. We're not waiting to see who has to die on planet Earth before the Avengers can get there to defend them. We're building up our defense system, not with weapons, but with people who stand ready at all times to make a difference. Our future generations," he paused for effect, "depend on Project Excelsior."

I looked around, feeling a sudden change in the group onstage.

The spot to my right was empty.

I noticed Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were both missing, just as the crowd erupted into cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi Y'all! I still don't own Marvel, thanks for asking. Also, thanks to everyone who followed and/or favorited this time around!**

 **Could you do me a huge favor and leave a review? Even a little one would do (;**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~Marina**

Chapter 3

After taking a cautious step back, I rapidly took in the faces of everyone remaining onstage.

Natasha and Bruce had also noticed that the two men were missing. Wanda was struggling to keep calm—she couldn't have NOT noticed the two missing Avengers, not with her telepathic abilities.

I hesitated. I didn't want to get caught up in anything until we knew the time was right.

But then, Tony held up a small, black disk.

"This is Excelsior," he explained, showing it to the crowd.

 _Never mind._

My eyes slid shut. The stage lights burned through my eyelids. Tony had just declared war.

If my family was recorded on that disk—

Either way, I wasn't leaving now. Not until that thing was destroyed.

I slipped backstage, ignoring Natasha's eyes on my back, hunting for Cap and Sam. The darkness beneath the shroud of dark curtains held a vague sense of hominess.

Not that Stark's temporary exhibition stage was anything like the dusty, travel-smelling, red-and-white circus tent I grew up under, but it still brought a familiar feel. I'm at home when I'm behind the stage.

Just in front of me, Steve was pacing up and down, looking for something. Sam was watching him nervously.

I caught sight of them and jogged up. "So," I began, startling them, "on a scale of one to anarchy, what's the plan, Cap?"

Steve's tense features screwed up for a moment, then eased out. "First, we've got to stop him from talking without sending the crowd into a panic," he decided. "Then we've got to get that disc away from him."

"Or convince him to smash it," I offered.

"Something tells me that's not going to happen," Sam replied seriously.

"This is Tony we're dealing with," Steve agreed. "Whatever it is we do, it'll probably end up erupting into a fight."

"We can't let that happen," I insisted. "He just finished telling the entire state of New York what a great team we were. What's it going to look like if we go out there and wreck all the things he just said?"

"We don't have a choice."

I shrugged, resisting the urge to gulp nervously. "Yeah, well, we can at least try not to screw this over, right?" I tried to grin.

Steve's eyelids lowered to the ground. "Right."

Sometimes I saw the twenty-something-year-old kid under all that Captain America fluff and bluster, and this was one of those times. Steve liked to fight, nothing wrong with that. Except when he wanted to fight these people I'd just decided to give my complete trust.

The whole business made my stomach turn.

Together, we crept around stage right.

An interesting sight met our eyes when we did. Sharon Carter was on her feet, right up in the front row. "—elaborate on—say, what would someone who was not supposed to access this information on superheroes get their hands on that device you're holding?" she was saying to Tony, who was gaping down at her, flabbergasted.

The three of us exchanged glances—or rather, I should say Sam and I both looked at Steve. He was staring openly at the woman whose mic-less voice currently held the floor of the exposition. She was _stalling_ —buying us time. My opinion of her immediately skyrocketed, and I think, probably, Steve's did even more.

"Um, yeah," Tony began, curiously, to answer her question. "Good question. Great question, actually. Bruce and I actually came up with a solution to that problem. This disk you see here is heavily encrypted with a number of—"

"Yes, I understand that, but—" Sharon interrupted, "—what I'm really trying to say is—oh, here, let me just do this, it'll be easier." She feigned an apologetic shrug, boldly climbing out of her row and climbing up the stage as though she owned it herself.

Ignoring Tony's shocked expression, which matched our own, she grabbed a handheld mic Bruce had used from its stand and addressed Tony directly through the speakers, so all could hear her.

I glanced out at the crowd. You could feel the vibes coming off of them, and off of Tony. This wasn't something he'd had planned, and that electrified the audience. They were all holding their breath.

"So, let me get this straight," Sharon announced, her voice amplified through the speaker and the stage lights glinting off of her hair as she spoke.

Steve just stared at her from behind the curtain, slack-jawed. It looked like she was about to win the fight for us. Smart girl.

"Project Excelsior is an initiative meant to save the Avengers," Sharon summed up, arching an eyebrow at Tony, "and the rest of the world, from threats that _don't_ actually exist yet?"

"It looks like we have an intellectual debate," Bruce grinned amusedly.

By her posture, Natasha looked more worried than amused.

Tony's expression deadpanned, as he was probably still trying to figure out what Sharon was doing on stage. "That's actually not true," he said at last, smoothing over the issue. "The threats do exist. Thor has made it pretty clear that there are more—can I say, alien _armies_ —out there that have no reason to like us. And we have resources here on Earth. Things they want. No reason to panic, but—" he waved to the crowd, "we all have a right as citizens of this planet to be informed. Excelsior _informs_. It enables us to know what the superpowers of the world are up to, so that when—not if—the Earth is attacked, nobody is allowed to drop the ball with some lame excuse. Everyone will be called upon to avenge this ball of dust and flowers until we've sent all our enemies packing."

"Does 'dropping the ball' include exposing the confidential files on one's team members without prior consent or approval, so you can publish their personal information to anyone who can access that disk?" Sharon's eyes flashed as she gazed at Tony.

 _Ouch._

He started to speak, but she cut him off again. She looked so much like Steve for a second that it almost hurt me. "Most of the Avengers I know are hearing about this project for the first time, tonight. If what you're saying is true, you are holding an unprotected case of information right now. Files on the Avengers, and countless others—their pasts, their worst fears, their darkest secrets, their weaknesses, right there in your unprotected, feeble human hand."

I winced. Now was the time. Now or never. Sharon was telling the truth, but by the spark in Tony's eyes, I knew all she was succeeding in was turning him against us. I had to act. NOW.

To Sam and Steve's chagrin, I stepped out from behind the curtain and sidled up, as inconspicuously as possible, next to Tony. I tried to pretend the thousand pairs of eyes out there in the audience weren't following my every move with the utmost suspicion.

Natasha looked at me in shock and glared. I ignored her.

I hate being on stage. Too many bad memories.

"Look, Tony," I faced him, speaking lowly so the audience didn't hear. "I think you're gambling with a little too much right now. I mean," I winced, feeling the tension as he frowned. "this is everything we are." I gestured to the disk. "Some of us are spies. Privacy's a big deal to us. If this gets out—"

"Barton? It won't," Tony stubbornly insisted, narrowing his eyes. He'd pulled down his mic so the audience couldn't hear him either.

I put up my hands. "All I'm saying is, if anything weird happens, people like Nat and me could be in some serious tr—"

Natasha had moved forward. Her eyes were positively glowering at me.

I was taken aback. "What?" I protested, genuinely confused.

She gave me an incredulous stare, like I was missing something incredibly important. "And what if _I_ wholeheartedly agree with everything Tony's saying?"

My heartbeat began thudding in my chest.

A loud "BANG!" interrupted us. All the stage lights went dark, power all over the 4-acre lawn shut down, and the stage and its visitors were instantly plunged into the darkness of a New York City blackout.

 _Steve._

Everything started moving very fast.

Tony remembered his role. "Hey, uh," he started into his microphone, pulling it back up to his lip, "Hey, all you guys?" He kept his voice as level and calm as though this happened every day. "Sorry about the power outage, uh, if you could all just keep to your seats, I'll make sure the ghost-of-expos-past doesn't steal them."

The audience members were standing up and looking around, but when he made the joke there was a tittering of nervous laughter. People started sitting back down.

Good. That was good. Keep everyone calm, get them the heck out of there before Steve does something crazy.

"We'll get this fixed in a second. Pepper? We got guys working on that? Yeah, it looks like we have—yep, so sorry. Special effects, righ—?"

My head whipped around to where Wanda was standing.

Tony's voice cut off and he remained frozen in place. His eyes began to glaze over with fear.

Wanda was grounded, feet plated apart, gazing almost apologetically into him with dark, fearsome eyes as she extended her hands to his head, dark red tendrils flowing from her fingertips.

Who knew what Tony saw, staring out with horror into the supposedly innocent-looking audience?

I rushed her, moved to drag her back, but she held on until Cap and Sam came flying out from backstage. Obviously, they were the ones who had cut the power. Natasha went tearing after them.

"Don't make me electrocute you again, Sweetheart," I whispered, half-teasing, in Wanda's ear. She glared at me and shoved me away from her, dropping her hold on Tony.

Bruce grabbed both him and the Excelsior disk from his hand, before the genius billionaire nearly passed out on his shoulder. "Tony! Tony, are you okay?" Bruce shook him, trying to bring him back to full awareness.

Rhodey had gone after Sam and they were shoving one another more forcefully with each blow in the corner. Vision had come over, and he and Wanda were gazing into each other's eyes again, only this time with looks of hurtful confusion instead of adoration.

"Wanda? What are you doing?" his deep, quiet voice asked, betrayed.

"Are you not going to take a stand? I am doing what I must! Why are you only sitting where you are?" Wanda gasped.

Natasha tackled Steve to the ground and I saw the glint of a knife.

Bruce shoved Tony over on me as Sharon, noticing he had the disk now, targeted him and the two went flying across the stage and into the darkened crowd below, chasing each other.

I grabbed Tony's jacket collar and started shaking him, getting him to wake up.

"WHAT is going on here?" Tony's eyes snapped open and he shoved himself off of me, stumbling back with a wild look in his eyes. He looked terrified of—whatever it was—that he'd seen. Then he noticed who had grabbed him and fixed me with a look of utter hatred.

"I'd like to ask the same question, pal," I started, backing away.

It was then that Pepper fixed on me.

From clear across the darkened lawn, I don't know how I saw her except for my world-renowned eyesight, but I did.

I knew then that it didn't matter that I'd tried to help Tony. That I'd been the one to attempt keeping things together.

I was the one closest to her guy, when everything he'd worked for—that they'd both worked for—fell apart.

The betrayal in her eyes matched Tony's—

It was a look I'd never forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Let it be known that—I changed a few things with the first chapter! I mostly cut that whole first part out and went straight into the part with Sharon talking about boring things in the Tower. Kill your darlings, guys, kill your darlings.**

 **Let me know what you think, and enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 4

The scene in the crowd was utter mayhem when the fighting broke out. I swallowed my own forebodings and went after what mattered most.

Natasha.

She was already on Steve's back, arm wrapped around his neck with a knifepoint at the back of his head despite the fact that she was still wearing her floor-length party gown. Her face glistened with sweat against her short red hair.

I made the mistake of running up and trying to pull her off and got an elbow in the mouth for my trouble.

"Listen to me," Nat hissed through her teeth toward Steve. "If you ever threaten the Excelsior Project again, there was NEVER any friendship between us. My life, my family, everything that matters to me now depends on that project going through. Is that clear?"

Steve tried to head-butt her and throw her off of him, but she kept dodging his blows. Finally his brute strength overpowered her grip on his neck. He trusted well enough that she wouldn't stab him, or at least not fatally. She hovered by him, unwilling to let him go that easily.

Tony came up and he glowered at Steve.

"You," Steve growled angrily, coming out from under Natasha's grip. "I thought it was pretty clear we didn't want another Ultron, and then what do you decide to do?"

Tony's face was adamant. "Like she said," he pointed to Nat, who still held the knife ready, "I made it my business to hang back. If Nat didn't want to be interfered with, it was best to wait until she let you. A lot of people's lives depend on this, Cap, yours included! You think you can just go and dump SHIELD files on the internet, and there be no consequences? Everyone knows all this stuff. This is my attempt to pack it up again; consider it—a thank-you gift after Ultron."

Steve gaped at that response.

"I'd maybe just assumed you'd overcome your antiquatedness enough to realize that."

"Don't call me antiquated because it makes you sound less biased," Steve snapped, levelling his gaze at Tony. "I don't need hindsight that dates back to the day I was born. I've got plenty just by remembering what happened last year. Did you learn nothing for being the one primarily responsible for hundreds of deaths in Sokovia? No one should have the power to control other human beings, Tony!"

"Then what are you promoting?" Tony was incredulous. "Chaos? Anarchy? Look out there and see where that's gotten you in the last thirty seconds!"

He gestured to the mayhem in the, still darkened, lawn. People were screaming as Vision, Wanda, Rhodey, and Sam duked it out in a full-fledged battle in the middle of them. Somewhere in there, Sharon Carter was still trying to find Bruce. I knew it was only a matter of time before—

"Tonyyyy!" a familiar voice screeched as a decisively emotionally distraught Pepper came marching along the side of the stage, being careful to avoid shards of glass from broken display cases. "You have got to stop these guys from fighting right now, because I don't know how, but if you can't stop them then so help me I will—"

The stage began to shake forebodingly beneath our feet.

" _CRASH!"_

"RRRRAAAAAARGHGGHGGH!" echoed a gigantic voice across the recesses of the property. A woman's scream followed it almost immediately.

"Oh, no," Tony muttered.

Pepper's hand flew to her head and she took a deep breath. "Please tell me I had an extra tequila and dreamed all this!"

"Don't worry," Tony deadpanned, panic sliding in under his features but still attempting to play it cool. "Nat's got this."

I jumped off the edge of the stage and sprinted across the lawn as fast as I could. I ended up parkour-ing over a few stacks of chairs and narrowly avoiding a few fistfights, but I kept going.

Guests were still lingering behind here and there, whether it was because they were stuck behind the several pile-ups of chairs or just plain paralyzed with fear. I began shoving bodies in the direction of the street, wherever I saw one, but sprinting straight toward the new green addition to Pepper's lawn ornaments as fast as I could.

The Hulk picked up one of the display cases, one of his own inventions flying out the back and crashing to the ground like an afterthought. I turned and watched where he was aiming at. Sharon lay struggling behind another case, attempting to hide.

She turned and her eyes met mine, wide. I grabbed her and lifted her to her feet by her elbows, since her dress was tangling around her legs. "He has the disk," she was gasping. "I was trying to take it without him noticing."

Steve came running up right behind me and quickly helped me lift her out of the mess of glass she was trapped in. "Let me guess," he replied grimly, "he noticed."

"You think!?"

"Hit the deck!" I screamed as another case came flying toward us. We all hit the ground in a giant dogpile of Sharon, Steve, and me on top. Glass and computer parts went flying through the air like tiny missiles. I batted Sharon's gun down as she attempted to aim it back. "Don't! You'll only make it worse."

"Can Romanoff calm him down?" Steve panted as he emerged from the debris, his suit jacket ripped in about thirty places. The guy could never fit in a regular-tailored suit anyway.

"Why does everyone look at me like I know what Nat's gonna do?" I protested vehemently, before the Hulk grabbed the entire outdoor bar and hurtled it toward us. This time Steve, thankfully, threw himself in front of me and shoved us all backward to avoid being hit. I could've done without some of the dusting of glass shards I'd been hit with the first time.

"We've got to find a way to destroy that disk," I yelled over the commotion.

"Come on! I have a plan!" Sharon exclaimed, struggling to her feet and tugging her heels off.

The other Avengers descended around the Hulk as if in swarms. Natasha led the pack. Along the way, Falcon had knocked Rhodey on his back, where he lay, panting from the blow of the younger soldier. Nat grabbed Sam and wrenched him away from Hulk, pinning him with at least three pressure points that couldn't have added to his dignity.

"No lullaby this time, Wilson," she grunted in his face, before suddenly dropping him and floating helplessly backwards as a red glow surrounded her features.

Sam scrambled off, only to be pinned down by Hulk, who grabbed him by one leg and dangled him above the ground, leaving him screaming and flailing madly.

Vision flew up, moving faster than I'd ever seen him. He grabbed Wanda by her shoulders, and the two exchanged some momentary, tender words. Wanda gazed behind her, into his face, and seemed to utter an apology, tightening her grip on Natasha.

I leaped forward to stop her, but Wanda harmlessly threw Nat away from the ground, causing her to slam into the base of one of the broken displays. She hit hard, but not hard enough to be seriously hurt. Vision simply looked at Wanda, who clasped her hands guiltily behind her back, and levitated over to where he held a hand out to Nat. She was on her feet in moments.

I relaxed only a tiny bit and turned to see what else was happening.

"Hulk!" Steve shouted from behind me, running up. "Put Sam down! We don't have to do this!"

"No, no, no!" Sam sounded a little strained from behind hung upside-down, his knee pinched between Hulk's huge, not altogether careful fingertips. "Do not drop Sam! Sam doesn't have his wings on right now, CAP! If you're planning on dropping Sam, put him down gentl—"

Hulk held him up to his nose and gave him a telling grimace.

Sam's eyes went wide.

Hulk shrugged. He pulled his arm back, swinging the Falcon up over his head, and let go. Sam's scream was enough to make anyone's blood curdle. He went clear over the top of Stark Tower, hundreds of meters in the distance, before beginning his unstoppable descent.

"Wanda!" Steve gasped, bumping into her from behind.

She immediately responded, reaching out and sending tendrils of dark energy, burning a small glowing trench all the way across the yard onto the other side of the Tower, where we couldn't even see what she was still doing. She closed her eyes, lifting her chin to the sky. We heard a soft, strangled yelp from afar, and no "SPLAT!" like we had feared, so whatever she did must've caught him before he hit the ground.

Rhodey was on me first, and when I jumped on his back and spun him over my head, he got straight up and tackled Wanda as well. It was then that the Scarlet Witch's own Black Widow training shone through. Nat had taught her well, even if for only a couple of months. She grabbed his leg, flipped him up in the air and over, and he landed with an equally hard "THUMP!"

I grinned, despite the somber situation. Wanda flashed me a glance. She was scared. Heck, I was, too, but I gave her a reassuring nod anyway. The last thing she needed was to become a victim in a fight against her own. I knew she could take down all of us if she really wanted to, and she wouldn't do that.

I started picking up rocks and debris from the ground and hurtling them in the Hulk's direction, attempting to distract him long enough for Sharon to make her moves. Being a sniper in a relegating situation without any weapons (except for my unusable gun) was a little crippling.

Sharon disappeared into the throng, but a blasting golden beam from the Vision held her at bay. "I cannot allow you to pass," he informed her regretfully, as smoke billowed up from the smashed metal plaque he'd hit.

I ran up and threw my arm around his neck from behind, using every trick in the SHIELD handbook and a few that weren't to wrestle him to the ground. "Go!" I shouted after her, as Cap blocked another shot with his shield, fighting off Nat with his free hand. I briefly wondered how he'd found it in the chaotic situation, but I didn't have time to think about it.

Vision was awfully muscular for his size, effortlessly throwing me off within seconds and leaving me on the ground, gasping.

Steve smashed Natasha in the face with the next blow from the shield, and Rhodey was on me again. I was just glad he wasn't wearing his suit at the moment. Either way, the guy's a beast with his tactical training, not some run of the mill high school boxer (like Tony pretended to be, and wasn't even that good).

Hulk began to sprint after Sharon, and while I was throwing punches to the side of Rhodey's ribs, I had no way to stop him. His giant, green fist came down directly on top of the one remaining, intact display case that contained what we needed.

Behind it, Sharon scrambled to her feet, grasping Bruce's cordless defibrillator. We had no idea if it would work, but it was worth a try if we didn't want to pluck it from Bruce or Tony's cold, dead hands.

Hulk's fist came down again, pinning Sharon to the ground. "Rogers!" she screamed. He dragged her upright and held her up to throw just as he had with Sam.

Falcon himself came running up, out of breath, having not found his wings but armed to the teeth with several components of Tony's private arsenal. The pounding of gunfire pierced the air as he held the semiautomatic levelled at Hulk's broad back, ignoring Sharon's terrified screams in his effort to avoid shooting her.

Still gripping tightly to the invention, Sharon angrily flipped the switch on and jammed it between Hulk's wide fingers. That, coupled with the gunfire and her sudden lurch after being hit with the shock, surprised the big guy enough that he dropped her like a rock. She hit the ground hard, and rolled over on her back, gasping for breath after the effects of the shock.

I was grazed by one of Rhodey's fists, nearly knocking my jaw out of place before deciding this fight was over. I pressed my hand to his neck and drove him up against a pile of chairs, ignoring his terrified wince as he struggled, knowing he was going unconscious from the lack of air.

A rocket whizzed overhead. Tony himself descended in all his red-armored glory. "Friday," he stated into his helmet speaker, "be a nice girl, okay, and listen to Daddy. Call Maria Hill, please. Tell her that if the Avengers went divisive during a prominent tech expo, it WASN'T my fault." A second later, "What do you mean you're not authorized? You're my baby! How are you not authorized?!"

He flew over the lawn, coming to a hovering standstill in front of where Hulk was ready to charge at Sam. "Whoa, Big Guy," he held up his hands. "Seriously, Friday, cut the crap and get me Miss Hill."

In the brief reprieve, Sam tossed a gun to Sharon, just in case. I pulled out my own and nodded at him as Rhodey fell limply to the ground in front of me.

"Who has the disk?" Tony asked him. "Come on, who has it? Is it you?"

Hulk snarled and shook his head.

Wanda immediately grabbed Natasha from behind, yanking her to the ground. Nat rolled backward and kicked her in the jaw and she stumbled back, landing on her butt, but I was on Natasha now. "Just like old times," I grinned wryly.

Natasha gave me a dirty look. She never did appreciate my sentimentality. I've never understood why.

She threw me off, and I landed, face-first, into the wet grass. Then she was on top of me, and there we were, wrestling in our formal wear in the muddy lawn of Stark Tower.

Sharon grabbed Nat after I did and sank her teeth into her arm, fumbling around her dress for the location of the disk. Vision and Wanda found themselves locked in an explosion of Infinity Stone-versus-Von Strucker Experimentation power. A golden-red arc glowed and began spreading wider and wider around them until it almost encapsulated their whole bodies, causing a hollow wind to blow in twirls around where we were landed. The wet grass flew up in gusts and stung my eyes as it swept past.

I pinned Natasha's arms and legs to the ground as fast as she maneuvered her way out of them. All I had to do was keep her there long enough for Sharon to find the disk, and keep both of them from killing each other.

Then the other heroes were on us. Steve slammed into me, accidentally knocking me off of my position. Hulk nearly crushed us all by starting to lift us all and smash us to the ground, but Tony head-butted him with the suit to convince him to change his mind and they started chasing one another around in circles surrounding us, creating a miniature earthquake from the stomps of Hulk's giant feet. Making our hero-dogpile feel like a glorified version of lying down in the middle of a crowded trampoline. In the corner, even Rhodey was starting to come around.

Then Sharon grabbed the corner of Nat's dress, ripping it off with a grunt of rage. Natasha flew after it, but it was too late. Her sleeve came ripping off, and the Excelsior disk, hidden in the secret pocket I should've known would be there, rolled out onto the ground.

Instantly nine heroes leaped at the tiny metal disk, clawing and shoving each other for it.

I got an elbow in my eye, a couple of angry slashes at my gut, and too many arms and legs and tangled bodies to know if any injuries I sustained afterward would be from my competitors or my allies. It felt like a wet, bloody dogpile of Black Friday shoppers, all diving for the last iPhone 6. Except worse.

Sharon was at the bottom of the pile, one knee twisted under her at an inhumane direction, her hair being tugged in at least three more of those. Natasha was coming at her in rage, I knew, when I heard her scream of pain.

I could just see them fight over it, the disk, with slippery, bleeding fingers. I reached up and shoved Nat's red head out of the way. Sharon wrenched the disk out of her grasp, causing Natasha to scream in rage, groping for it and getting Sharon's hair instead, which she yanked out in a handful. Sharon brought the metal plate of the defibrillator down on the disk with a loud "ZAP!"

I jumped despite everyone on top of me, feeling the jolt rip right through me.

If there hadn't been as many of us in the pile, someone may have needed CPR. Suffice it to say, it didn't make any of us feel too good. I wasn't sure how Sharon survived the first shock she gave Hulk.

Groaning, most of us managed to untangle ourselves from the pile. Sharon sat up dizzily, looking beyond ready to pass out after two shocks in a row.

Natasha got to her feet and spat in Sharon's face in front of all of us.

I don't think I'd ever seen her that angry before—at least not since I pulled her from a cell in Budapest after she'd been brainwashed by the KGB.

She ripped the disk out of Sharon's readily yielding hands, spun away from everyone, and marched toward the tower.

Steve picked up his shield and hurtled it after her. I made a move to stop him, but I suddenly found my arm trapped behind me as Rhodey held me in a vice grip. I watched there, helplessly, my arm half out of its socket, as the shield collided with the back of Nat's head, knocking her unconscious as she sprawled forward on her face.

Hulk roared, outraged, and grabbed Steve by the throat, held back from tearing him in half only by a wave of concentrated power from Wanda. Vision and Rhodey were both about to jump on her when Tony held up his hand. I got to my feet.

And then we all froze.

The block was surrounded by news cameras.

Hundreds of them, more than even Tony had probably ever seen, were crowding around the perimeter, held back only by police and Happy's security systems. Pepper had called them all back to handle the emergency, no doubt.

They snapped pictures of all of us—Natasha lying unconscious in the grass, face-down and bleeding, Hulk barely being constrained by Wanda, all of our bruised, bleeding hero selves instantly devoured by the news-hungry masses.

"Easy," Tony's voice came to my left, whispering to Hulk, who slightly relaxed his grip on Steve, who shoved the rest of the green fist away and fell choking and gasping for breath to his knees.

Sam gave him a hand and helped him up. Steve had bruises all up and down his neck and his suit was in tatters. Bruce, looking from the crazy lights of the reporters and back and forth between Tony and Natasha, miraculously began to change back from his Hulk-state. As he became Banner again, even more pictures were snapped, and he stumbled back, eventually over to where Natasha had fallen. I stood cautiously to my feet.

Tony's eyes darkened with rage and he turned on Steve. I hung in the background, next to Sam. Suddenly, the need to separate them seemed believable again. "I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play," he spoke lowly so that none of the press could hear, "But people are going to die if you take it any farther. Do you think I don't have some kind of reason for taking your profile and making it part of the system? I have other hero's lives depending on this. They're trusting me!"

Steve started to answer, but Tony interrupted him and continued.

"Listen." His voice was unnervingly calm, although a seething attitude raged underneath it. He was trying to maintain appearances for the press. "Anyone who messes with my stuff, or my people, are gonna get what's coming to them. I don't want to do this any more than you do."

"Do you?" Steve demanded through clenched teeth. "I have a thought for you, Tony. If you don't want me taking your stuff, try asking before you take mine."

"I'm trying to protect the world. What are you and your little hero-band doing?"

"The world doesn't want your protection, and I thought you were PART of this 'hero-band'."

"Half of them are with me, you know."

"And the other half are with me."

Both of them glared at each other. Sam and I exchanged momentary glances behind their backs.

"Then what is this? War?" Tony's shoulders slumped slightly.

"Whatever you want. You asked for it, not me." Steve didn't even flinch as he said the words, which made me uncomfortable.

Sure, I didn't want Excelsior around anymore than he did, but I also didn't want—

"I said all's fair in love, and war!" Tony suddenly turned to the press, extending his hand to Steve in a hearty fashion. He grinned widely, fake as a ringmaster's French accent. "Especially in this—friendly—'test of one another's mettle', as my buddy Thor Odinson would say. Thanks for coming out tonight!"

I winced painfully as the others in the group also attempted to smile and wave off the damage, although some, including myself and Sam, didn't even try.

Steve took Tony's hand, gripping it nearly as tightly as the Iron Man did his, while in the suit. "All is not fair," he muttered under his breath.

"Stop disagreeing with me," Tony snapped.

More cameras flashed, pictures taken of Tony's last-ditch attempt to rectify the situation before the public. It would never work, but we couldn't go on fighting through the night. Especially not in the center of the city.

There had to be another way to stop Excelsior from going through. Maybe we already had, but there was no way to be sure.

"Tony," I spoke lowly, trying not to cringe at the dark stare he gave me in response. "did that shock kill the disk, or is it still running?"

Steve looked to him as well, but the billionaire didn't answer. Beside him, Hulk was beginning to change back into Bruce, and stumbling over to where Natasha lay beginning to come around.

Turning to me, then Sam, Sharon, and Wanda, Steve cocked his head toward the road. "Let's head out of here," he said simply.

I looked back to make sure Natasha was all right. She was sitting up a little, her head in Bruce's lap. I caught a hint of her voice floating through the darkness. That was satisfactory enough.

The others got up, and, with most of us limping from glass shards stuck in our extremities, we followed Steve off the grounds.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much to Guest for the lovely review! This chapter will hopefully begin to satisfy your curiosity about the Big Hero 6. I wanted to put them in because A. they're awesome, B. They would just go nuts in Tony's lab, and C. I think Spiderman needs some teenager friends. Especially given all the craziness about to go down. Peter comes in later, though (:**

Chapter 5

It took Tony and Pepper nearly four hours to get everything under wraps—what was left of them, anyway.

The yard looked less like a hurricane site, for example, and Natasha's head was bandaged by Bruce. The two of them had gone on to bed, leaving Vision to help Pepper and Rhodey to sulk with his arm in a sling while Tony did his best to continue managing the press.

It was hard to feed them a plausible story.

The Avengers had fought. The world was curious about that kind of thing. Guiltily, Tony withheld the information they wanted, knowing they had a right to hear it from Iron Man himself. They could be in danger, if Steve was planning something else reckless. He'd put the whole exposition in danger already! What was he thinking—what had happened to his friend all of a sudden?

Tony was too exhausted to think about it much, but that didn't mean it didn't eat at him. Didn't Steve realize that 'desperate times called for desperate measures'? Wasn't that phrase old enough to be understood even in the days of the days of dungarees?

Natasha was feeling pretty crappy, considering when Bruce had taken her inside she hadn't even stopped to blow her top about what had happened. Last Tony knew, Steve and Natasha were friends, too. And had Clint actually sided with THEM? Tony considered him a friend, too, even if the old bird WAS depressingly secretive about nearly everything that mattered in life.

Trudging across the lawn as the last of the paparazzi finally went on their way, he glanced up at where Rhodey was perched on the steps.

His old friend stared straight ahead, dark eyes brooding over things of the night.

"What's the long face for?" he joked humorlessly, climbing up to place his hands on Rhodey's shoulders from behind.

War Machine shook his head slowly, barely responding to his presence. "Tony," he began, carefully, "this is bad."

"News Flash number 31 tonight."

Rhodey's eyes slid closed. "No, Tony, I mean this is real. We're in trouble if Captain America is opposing us."

"So what? We just hit him with a few shots, make him convinced that he won't be able to come back and take what's ours."

"Okay," Rhodey finally roused himself, a tad bit annoyed. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you seem indifferent to having just lost half your team, and ask you what do you actually think you can do to stop Captain America from stealing your little project?"

Tony rounded on him. "This is not a 'little project'! This is my masterpiece! My life's work, leading up to this."

"Cut the poetics! Everything you do is your so-called 'life's work', Tony. Now look," he got to his feet and faced him, "the others aren't crazy, okay? They've got a point. What this thing could do, if anything went wrong, is unfathomably dangerous."

Tony bristled.

"Privacy's always been a real concern, Tony, you can't go denying that. These are spies we're working with. Superheroes!"

"What, so are you going to join them, then?" Tony frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go on ahead, I think they had a spare middle-seat in their eight-passenger van that just got towed up from Mexico."

"Listen to me." Rhodey's eyes burned with sincerity. "I will fight anyone who tries to touch what you've done here. You're my best friend. But you've got to get your act together, because we can't ignore that over HALF your teammates just spontaneously and publicly turned their backs on you. Nobody was expecting that. You saw their faces. They didn't even know what Excelsior WAS until tonight, and they're that angry with you. Don't get angry at them," he admonished quickly, cooling Tony's ever-growing sulking fire. "But Tony, just go and try to beat them at their own game."

Pepper ascended the porch in front of them, dragging her feet into a chair where she fell against the arm Tony offered. "Maria's missing," she sighed loudly. "I can't find her anywhere. Friday and Jarvis are both malfunctioning, at the same time, I don't know how. I don't know what's gone wrong with them. Did somebody hack—?"

The three of them exchanged long glances.

Maybe whatever Cap had done wasn't as 'unplanned' as Rhodey had guessed?

The only people left out in the yard, other than Vision, who was walking around the building and probably planning on taking his melancholy heartbreak to the nighttime streets, were, strangely, the three kids from San Fransokyo.

Pepper had set up floating lights all around the yard for the expo, and while most of them were now destroyed, the fluffy white robot was apparently attempting to hide behind one of them that remained intact.

"They helped with getting people out," Pepper nodded in their direction, kicking her shoes off in front of her. "The minute things got wrong, all three—four of them, jumped right in and helped."

Tony considered that for a moment before getting up, groaning as he stretched his aching joints, and hopped down the steps to meet them.

"Oh!" the big guy jumped when he saw Tony standing there, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark, Sir. I know we're supposed to be gone," he added, nervously, glaring at his friends.

"We're trying to get our robot," the bubble-gum girl explained with some annoyance, "He's like Hiro's pet bunny. And he's part of the team. We don't leave members of our team behind."

"Come on, Baymax," the young genius was begging the robot. "The big green guy's long gone. Crisis averted."

The robot didn't move and Hiro Hamada huffed loudly.

"I am satisfied with my care," he stated blandly through irritated, half-lidded eyes.

The robot still didn't move.

"No more bad guys swinging lights around," Hiro threw up his hands, gesturing to the lawn. "Which wouldn't be a good reason to hide anyway, because they might mistake you for one."

The big robot looked down at his feet, back to Hiro, and started slowly edging his way out of the crevice.

"There you go," Hiro said in obvious relief. "Atta boy. Just come on out and we can go home."

"Hey, I wouldn't have all of you leave right away just because of a little toughing it out on the lawn," Tony spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "I mean, come on. You guys were supposed to stay until Wednesday, right? Pepper said Wednesday," he added, muttering to himself. Then he snapped back to attention. "Yeah, Wednesday. Far be it from me to cut your visit short. Do all of you do robotics?" he asked curiously, realizing he probably should have known that by now.

"Yes Sir."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah!"

His eyes darted from one to another, gears in his brain practically grinding audibly with the thoughts he was having.

After all, when a team of elite superheroes have gone rouge and threatened to attack you, what better thing to do than bring a team of elite young scientists into your building who could easily pass as innocent little kids? Double-safeguard. Pepper might object, but she could do her objecting later.

"You guys wanna come work for Stark Industries for a few weeks?"

… … … … …

Wanda sat silently in the van we'd 'liberated', not even looking at me for the first forty minutes of our three-hour drive.

I figured she was mad at me for making that stupid joke, but finally, she turned around and sighed.

"Is it because of Pietro?" was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth.

Cap sat up front, purposefully not listening, while Sharon and Sam were sprawled in a few other seats. The dark night was pierced only by our distraught-looking yellow headlights as we rolled down the highway to the hum of the tires against the pavement.

"Is…is what because of Pietro?" I ventured at last, leaning my head back against the window. My bad knee was up on the seat between us, probably cramping her a little, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I don't know," she shook her head confusedly. "There is so much. I worry about people, you know. About you. Don't laugh," she glared at me when I started to chuckle, "it's in my nature, Clint," she added, in an annoyed tone.

I stifled my grin immediately. I had more than enough experience with worry-warriors to know how to respond. "So what do you worry about?"

"You saved Stark tonight?"

"'Course I did. He's my friend."

"I don't like him very much."

"Yeah, I kind of got that," I smirked.

"We have to stop him," she eyed me seriously.

I sighed heavily, looking away. "I got that, too. You mad at me for pulling you away?"

A slight smile quirked at her lips. "No. Just worried."

I looked around and waved my hands in the air. "I'm here all night."

She ducked her head in embarrassment. "I was afraid you were getting reckless," she admitted wryly. "Because Pietro is dead, and I know you blame yourself, because everyone does. Except for maybe Stark, who was actually mostly to blame," she added, muttering to herself.

"Off topic," I warned.

"Okay!" she groaned, giving me a condescending look. "I was worried when we found you in—in Bulgaria," she said in a rush. "The doctors said your brain had swelled, they didn't know if you were going to make it. All the others seemed surprised. Maybe because—they are used to getting hit in the head all the time? It's fine for them—they have—superpowers."

"I'll have you know I have a hard head," I replied, keeping my tone nonchalant.

"Your head is so hard, you are deaf as a log," she pointed out.

I groaned. "I lost my hearing when I was a kid! It doesn't even factor in."

"I would like to maybe suggest that your head is not as hard as you think it is, Clint!"

"My head's fine," I snapped.

"Well, excuse me for expressing concern!" she drew back in offense.

"Where do these Sokovian kids get their sass? Natasha was never like this!" I grumbled under my breath.

"Tryin' to sleep up here," Sam complained sleepily from up front.

"Are you certain you're all right?" Wanda's eyes bored into mine. "It makes me feel horrible that we all sat back and let you take that mission alone."

"There wasn't any other way we could've done it, and yes, I'm gonna be fine!"

"'Going to be,' or 'are'?" she demanded.

"Wanda," I groaned, pressing my thumbs into my eye sockets, "I'm not five!"

"We are going to war against our own teammates," she replied coldly. I recognized the new tactic. Logic me into it. Fine, whatever she wanted. "I need to be sure that I have your back and you have mine."

"Yes, 'Captain Scarlet', or should I say, 'wizened grandmother of great forest-y wisdom'. I'm as ready for this as anybody who was just suddenly turned against their best friend could be, and I trust you are as well. Catch me asking you a thousand questions about how fit you are to do your job?"

"That is because there is nothing wrong with me."

"Says the girl that decided to work with a giant homicidal robot…"

"You are as annoying as my brother sometimes!"

"Yeah, well, you're sometimes as annoying as mine!"

"You have a brother?" Wanda's voice dropped from the near-yell it had escalated to.

"I used to," I deadpanned.

Both of us froze.

Slowly, we both turned away, trying to get up the courage to change the subject.

"Well, that's awkward," Sharon muttered from up front.

I groaned. "So. Um…you were saying you…blame Stark for what happened to your brother?"

Not the _lightest_ topic to change the conversation to, but oh well.

Wanda hesitated slightly. "Yes."

"And?" I raised my eyebrows.

"…myself," she admitted in a small voice.

"See what you did there?" I pointed out. "It's everybody's and nobody's fault."

"That is what you said before," she remembered, from our conversation during the battle.

"I get that you've got to blame somebody. So blame Ultron. He's the one who gunned him down."

We were both silent for a while.

I don't know why I said what I did next. "My brother—blamed everybody."

"For what?" her brow furrowed.

"He lost a wife. And a—baby. I didn't know until after he was dead."

Wanda visibly gulped.

I didn't feel much different, to be honest. Why I'd decided to bring this up, I wasn't entirely sure. Especially with Steve and Sharon in the front seat, wide awake.

 _Stupid brain._

"What happened to him?"

"Well, he could've come to me for help," I recalled bitterly. "But he didn't. He couldn't find the murderer, and so he turned on everyone. Went psychotic, started trying to hurt anyone his mind tricked him into thinking was partially responsible in some way. In the end, the person he hurt more than anyone else was himself."

Wanda was quiet for a long time. "So the moral of the story is, 'do not be like him'," she summed up finally.

I snorted, blowing off the lead weight I felt had lodged in my chest at the mention of Barney.

My mind briefly flashed to that moment, right at the very end. It had never stopped being painful.

 _Clint finally aimed his bow right at his brother, cowering on the ground in front of him. Rain had begun to pour from the sky, making the whole edge of the mountain a slippery bath of mud._

" _I win," he said slowly. "Now cut the crap, Barn, just let me take you home."_

 _Barney laughed at him. It was as if he didn't even see the bow. "That's how you win?" he mocked, from his crouch in the mud just a few yards away. "I got a secret to tell you," his grin was wide and crazed. "I win!"_

 _He lunged forward, forcing Clint to sidestep to avoid plunging off the edge of the cliff, but Barney kept coming. His chest connected with the tip of the arrow and before Clint could scream, Barney's nimble fingers had pried his own away from the string. It went straight through, the shaft emerging the area directly above Barney's heart._

 _It all went too fast for Clint to see. First Barney was coming at him, then he accidentally loosed the arrow, and dropped his bow in shock. Barney, however, kept falling on him and knocked him backwards, toward the edge, the mud was slick and both of them fell._

 _Without thinking the first thing he grabbed was his brother's wrist, holding on in the tightest grip he could manage despite the fact that they were both soaked and slippery and Barney was doing nothing to aid his grasp._

 _Then he had tipped over the edge of the cliff, so his other arm shot up and strained as both of their weight fell between the narrow cleft of rock he managed to grab and his shoulder. Clint gasped, trying to shake his head to clear his eyes of the rain. "Barney?!" he screamed down at the man he was holding onto. "Barney, help me!"_

 _No sound. Not even a movement._

" _Barney? Wake up!"_

 _Nothing. Clint's hand was starting to slip._

" _Please, Barney! You're all I've got left!"_

 _His hand slipped on the breaking chunk of rock and they were falling toward the pool below. The wind knocked Clint's breath from his lungs and suddenly he was weightless._

 _Protective instincts kicked in. Keep the victim safe, fall in the water in the position to cause the least impact. In the less than three seconds of free fall, Clint inverted himself to dive face-first, strapping Barney to his chest with his right arm, extending his left out up over his head to break the fall._

 _The splash hit loudly enough it reminded him of a day at the waterpark, and he was aware of a crushing sensation through his hand. Pain shot up his elbow, smacked him in the head, hit him hard enough to bruise his whole body, it felt like. His hand and arm were useless and screamed even when he couldn't._

 _Unable to do more than swim with just his legs, he made it to the surface just as he thought his lungs would burst. He was exhausted. Alternatively gasping for breath and screaming in pain, he managed after what felt like hours to drag Barney's lifeless form toward the edge. One-armed, he hauled him out, the pain in his left arm making his knees weak._

 _Collapsing by his brother's side, he held an ear to his mouth to hear what he knew he would. No breathing. He felt the pulse, knowing there wouldn't be one there as well. His shaking hand closed around the arrow and yanked it out, but it snapped off halfway, refusing to dislodge, as his whole body began trembling._

 _In a moment, he couldn't decide what pain to pay attention to, Barney's being stabbed through with his own arrow and lying dead in front of him, or the fact that his hand was overwhelmingly painful and he couldn't think. He was confused. Is this what Barney meant? Is this what he meant about Clint going crazy like him? Was it going to happen tonight?_

 _Out of pure desperation he fumbled with a blood-covered hand for his soaked phone and dialed Phil, using his shoulder to hold it to his ear as he, trembling, stretched his arm out over Barney and grabbed the folds of his coat as though he could somehow pull part of him back into reality that way._

" _Coulson, just—" Clint responded to the barrage of questions after he was silent for the first twenty seconds, "just—please come pick me up. I need a ride outta here. Rea—really far away."_

 _He dropped the phone in the mud and left it there while he sat, unmoving, over what used to be his brother…_

"You're a good brother, Clint," Wanda interrupted my thoughts.

I snapped back into reality as quickly as I'd left. "Hmm?"

"To me and Pietro, and to him."

"I haven't told anyone about that in a long time," I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. I ran a hand across my face and winced when some of the glass shards from earlier, still pricking against my arm, rubbed against my chin.

I didn't mention the one young woman she left off of that list, the one who'd been my little sister almost as long as I could remember.

Maybe I'd been a good brother. I sure tried, even if Pietro was now dead and so was Barney.

The real question was, could I be the same for Natasha?

Or now that we were turned against each other, could I keep her from the same fate?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"What about Nat?"

Laura really did have a way of asking the questions I did NOT want to answer. I swallowed. "Ahem. What about her?"

"Clint—" there was the warning tone.

"She's with them," my voice came out strangled.

I was still so confused about what had happened.

I knew Nat had been burned pretty bad, psychologically speaking, back in the day during her time in the Red Room, but even more so when she left SHIELD and got sucked back into it again, with the KGB. After years of getting over her past, they'd brainwashed her right back to where she'd started—only this time, she was no longer an innocent teenage victim. Or at least, she no longer felt like one when I found her.

But that was _years_ ago.

And back then, I was the only one she trusted enough to come back and admit her mistakes to. I was glad to argue and excuse and elbow her way back into the organization for her. She'd seemed fine, back into the swing of things. Making a better life for herself.

When Loki came, though, that regret seemed to resurface. The Natasha I knew from the old days would never have planted herself in the middle of a war. She was a spy, not a warrior, or at least she hadn't been before the Battle of New York. Loki pulled something out of her that I'd never known she was carrying, and she was my best friend. I'm the closest thing she has to family, and I've always treated her that way.

Now, suddenly, she was acting like Tony had the key to life itself, when all along I thought our family was just that.

Tony was trying to control all of us, and whether he was doing it on purpose or not, he was literally going to cause the end of all existing world governments if Excelsior was allowed to operate like it was supposed to.

I couldn't exactly let that happen, not with the woman on the other end of the phone relying on me to keep our kiddos safe and sound and get back home to her at the end of it all.

"Someone wants to talk to you," Laura said softly, through the speaker.

I sat up a little more against the bathroom counter. I was using the phone that came with our hotel room, having been warned that if I glanced more than a little in the direction of the toweled-up ladies busy removing glass shards from each other's legs, I'd have more than just half the Avengers as my new enemies.

"Hi Daddy, I miss you," came the new voice on the phone.

My resolved wish that she were in bed this late at night wavered, before dissolving completely. "Hey, baby girl."

Sharon looked up at me curiously. I pretended not to notice. Everyone was finding out now, anyway.

I had a sudden, sickening realization that Tony and the others knew all about—

 _No. Never._

They _never_ would.

I shook my head of the thought. "Hi, Sweetheart. How was your day?"

"It was good. I started my archery class."

I just about choked up right over the phone. "That today?" Where had the time gone?

"Uh-huh. I learnded to use a little bow. I could only hit the big targets though, and I didn't get them in the middle like you do," she sounded disappointed.

"Hey!" I spoke up right away. "That's all right! Just using it's hard enough to start with. You've just got to keep practicing, and you'll hit the center target in no time." I excitedly turned around to lean against the counter. Sharon and Wanda jumped up with their towels and glared at me.

I stuck my tongue out at them.

Juvenile, yes. But could Lila see me? Nope.

"Are you fighting with the other Abengers?"

"Yuh-huh," I dragged out his response, really hoping I didn't accidentally tell her something I shouldn't.

"Mommy says Iron Man's the best because he's the cutest."

I completely forgot the others were sitting right next to me. "Mom _what?_ "

An explosion of laughter was all I heard from the other end of the phone as both Lila and my wife descended into fits of giggles.

I groaned loudly. "Lila, give your mother back to me for a sec. What kind of stuff is she putting in your head?"

Still giggling, there was static as the phone transferred from one ear to another. "I'm so sorry," Laura gasped between laughs, "I told her to say that just to be mean, Clint, honestly."

"Well, gee, I feel so tickled," I griped. "Seriously though, you might want to let her know. Iron Man isn't such a great hero-figure to be enthralled with right now. Not if we end up engaging him full-on like Steve is wanting to."

"Honey, is this Excelsior disk really such a big deal?" Laura sighed, serious once more. "I know being part of the Avengers is really important to you, and it is to me, too, but if this is going to get out of our control, I would—" she sighed again. "Look, Clint, honestly, I would feel better if you were at home."

"I know. Me, too."

"I feel like I should call Nat, too," Laura continued. "Honey, don't you think she should at least get the idea that she doesn't have to do this? She can come back. Bruce can come with her, for all I care. They're so cute together," she added with a smile in her voice.

I barked a short laugh. "Lar, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Hmm? Why not?"

I swallowed hard. Would it make any difference if Laura tried to talk her out of it? Teenaged Natasha used to be so reasonable. She trusted us more back then.

"Well," I gulped, "No reason, I guess. Anyway, I'll—I'll call you if I find out anything else. Before we go in. Have a good night, hon."

I winced as Lila jumped up in the phone and screamed, "I love you, Daddy!" before bounding off. I laughed a little, even though I had to re-adjust my hearing aids.

"Love you, too!"

Laura's voice sounded musical after that. I made a note that he needed to leave my aids on this new setting from now on. "I guess we really don't say that enough," she mused, in that tone that had made me fall in love with her at the first. "I love you so much, Honey."

"Yeah," I grinned. "I love you too, Babycakes."

I enjoyed the disgusted stares I was getting from the ladies next to me.

"Honeyboo," Laura responded immediately, honey dripping from the words.

"Love Muffin."

"Don't refer to my baby fat!"

"What?! I wasn't referring to your—"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"No, Ma'am. Not a chance. I love you the most. Every inch of you." I knew the drill by now.

"You're such a sap," I could sense the disgruntled pleasure she got from the praise.

"I'll never change!" I laughed.

"No, you won't! And I wouldn't have it any other way," she added lovingly, making me smile.

I knew she was referencing what other women had once said about me. For Bobbi and them, it was the excuse they'd given for leaving me.

" _Oh, Clint Barton, Clint Barton. You'll never change."_

I was that pathetic, painfully human guy who could see targets six miles away and miss the broken relationships right in front of my face.

Laura was different from them. My struggles only drew her closer.

"I love you," I said slowly, meaningfully.

"Be careful. I love you, too. I'll be praying for you."

"Yeah, thanks. I need it."

"How long does it take these idiots to say good-bye?" Sharon hissed under her breath to Wanda. She had a gash in one leg, with blood dripping down the side of the toilet cover from where Wanda had pulled out the glass. She noticed me looking and smacked me in the knee.

"Bye," I said pointedly, glaring at her as Laura repeated it and hung up the phone.

"You guys," Sharon groaned as soon as he was off. "You have any idea how disgusting you sound?"

Wanda turned around, smiling at me first and then at the FBI agent. "Do I sense some sarcasm in there?" she spoke in her heavy accent. I snorted, and Sharon rolled her eyes.

That was one thing about the Avengers. Even when the world descended into chaos, we still found stuff to jam down each other's throats as comic relief.

Not willing to be slapped _again_ for staring (even though I wasn't), I hung the phone back on the wall and rescinded into the main part of the room.

Steve was focusing extremely hard on wrapping Sam's strained knee, right in the spot where Hulk had grabbed him. It took all my effort not to laugh. The two of them were practically falling asleep where they stood. Sam's head was drooping, Steve was leaning against the edge of the bed in a very un-supersoldier like way, eyelids threatening to close with every slow wrap he performed around Sam's knee.

Never mind, I was already laughing. I walked over and butted Steve aside in a friendly way, taking hold of Sam's knee to finish the job myself. "How long you been awake, Cap?"

"Been a long day," was all Steve said in reply. He slumped to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"You hurt?" I eyed him critically.

"Might have some glass in me. Think you could convince one of the girls to get it out for me?" he looked up, a slight twinkle in his eye.

I laughed and shook my head. "You'd have to do all the convincing there. They're not showing any mercy on me tonight."

When Steve didn't answer, unusual for him, I grew a little concerned.

"You sure you're all right?"

Steve didn't answer again, pulling up a knee and leaning his arm on it, raking a hand across his face.

Sam caught my eye. "He's been to Peggy Carter's funeral today," he explained in a low voice.

 _Oh._ I nodded slowly.

I'd meant to go and see Miss Peggs myself one more time. I didn't want to admit that I'd simply forgotten, especially not to Steve.

"She was a pretty fine lady," I didn't look at Steve, focusing instead on the semi-arduous task of bandaging Sam. "She made a good director for SHIELD before Fury came along. Anyone else would've kicked me out. Not just once, but a couple of times," I smiled at the memory.

A ghost of a smile crossed Steve's face, and he looked up. "Hard to imagine you doing anything that bad," he joked.

I snorted. "I know, right? I'm perfect!"

"What did you know about her?"

I wrinkled an eyebrow, focusing on the bandage. "Well, her giving over everything to Fury was bittersweet, I'll give you that. She was eighty-five, or something like it, before she left. You know how old people eventually get to the point where they just can't figure out technology? She got computers surprisingly well, but her downfall was the smartphones. She could never figure out how to work those things, since we had them long before the public did. She even had an assistant to help her, and she still butt-dialed me like, thirty times in six months," I couldn't hold back from laughing at the memory.

Steve started chuckling as well, so I counted that as a win.

"Or maybe she was just trying to flirt with me and got embarrassed every time because I was, like, eighteen," I snorted again.

"You think Peggy Carter had a thing for you? You're under some serious delusions of grandeur, man," Sam punched me in the shoulder with a grin.

"We can't just sit here for long. We need to keep an eye on Stark," Steve sat up again, suddenly ready for action. Sam and I looked to him. "Somebody's got to get inside that building and figure out where the disk is. Even if Shay managed to fry its brains, it won't take too long for Tony to get it up and running again."

Sam and I exchanged a glance. Apparently, it was now serious-time again.

"Not with the Hulk helping him," Sam agreed.

I managed to abstain from the sudden need I felt to correct him. The Hulk wasn't Bruce, and Bruce wasn't the Hulk. They were both the same person, but they were very, very different sides of him. But that was just my geeky side.

"Shay?" I guffawed instead. Again, I abstained from the need to poke at Steve for his Carter-family affinities.

Steve glared at me anyway.

"Look, I can get in there," I waved my hand, "but then there's _Natasha_. Who is in there..." Hopefully the implication of that sentence was made very clear to the other two.

"Coward!" Sharon yelled from the bathroom. "I could infiltrate that Tower in eighty seconds flat."

"I've LIVED there before, thanks, and you could do no such thing," I yelled back, annoyed.

What did she know?

"Guys," Steve started, shaking his head, but then his phone buzzed.

Actually, it started going off wildly. Buzzing, ringing at top volume, blinking every light at once—literally everything a phone could do to possibly get someone's attention.

I frowned at it. That was not normal.

"I swear this thing was on silent," Steve shouted over the noise. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket. When he'd first come to SHIELD, Fury had given him a flip phone. I'd been a principal agent in making sure he knew how to use that, and when I figured out he was kidding with me, I made him get a smartphone. He'd only had it for the last three months, though.

"Is it a bomb?" was the first thought that went through my mind.

"Have you never seen a cell phone—?" Sam started.

I gave him a look. "I've seen hundreds of cell phone _bombs_ , smarty pants."

"Answer it, answer it!" Sharon shrieked from the other room, stumbling out with blood on her limbs and cheek and a towel around her waist that was fast getting plastered with her DNA.

"No, wait!" I snatched the phone from Steve before he could answer the call. I started to pound in a few ridiculously long and complicated bypass codes I'd learned from working in the tech department that one time when Agent Ward had surgery.

He was annoyed because I took apart all his toys. Some kids gotta learn that you just can't get along with everybody.

Halfway through the first one, I stopped suddenly. I knew this code. I KNEW I did! It—it was like—it was stuck, there, somewhere in my brain, and I just couldn't quite reach—

Steve slowly took a step forward, noticing the empty look on my face, and took it from me.

My hand dropped and allowed him to take it. I was trying to help, trying to disable any possible explosives and keep us all safe, but what good was it when I couldn't remember how to enter the codes?

Steve motioned for everyone to step back, holding it away from his face before, with all of our hearts pounding in a collective circle, he hit the answer button.

Long, heavy breathing were what sounded from the other end, not the explosion we'd all been partially expecting.

The ringing, buzzing, and flashing stopped, though, which was another plus.

With a sigh of relief, Steve managed to find the speakerphone so we could all hear what was being said. Wanda bounded out of the bathroom to crowd around with everyone else.

"Who is this?" Steve demanded, using his special commanding-officer-official-representative-of-the-American-nation voice.

"This is Director Phil Coulson of SHIELD," came the voice I knew better than anyone but my wife's.

A slow grin spread across my face, and I watched almost giddily as Steve's mouth fell right open.

"Glad to hear your voice, Captain. Can somebody get my agent on the line?"

I snatched it from him again.

I tend to feel a personal protectiveness over conversations having to do with Coulson. The Avengers hadn't heard from him since his 'death', which I didn't even know about until he told me himself, and the rest of them hadn't heard from SHIELD through anyone but Maria since it 'disbanded' over a year ago. Plus, he was my dearest friend.

"Agent Barton right here, Sir. Location is—semi-secure, I suppose."

Phil sighed heavily into the phone. "I heard that you all are having a little trouble agreeing," he began.

I snorted. "Understatement of the year, Sir."

"Well, that is unfortunate timing," Phil continued. "You're sure this is secure?"

"Secure as anything we'll find, I guess."

"Good. SHIELD's been compromised."

I paused, not sure what to say. "Again?"

"Again," Phil replied, more tiredly than irritably. "And this time, it's an unknown mole we can't seem to pin down. The main reason for that is that whoever-it-is has managed to trap almost half our currently operating agents in a dungeon in Wakanda, Africa."

My eyebrows raised without meaning to. "That is—very unfortunate timing, Sir. How many agents?"

"We don't have Agent Romanoff," Phil said quickly, probably meaning to reassure me, although it really didn't help much. "My personal team, Agent Hill, myself. Some other people I can't remember the names of."

I grinned in spite of myself. "Wait, Phil, you mean you're calling me from a dungeon? What're your coordinates?"

"16.0096° North and latitude 8.7236° East."

I bolted for the hotel scratch paper and started taking all of it down.

"Oh, and Captain?" Phil said.

Steve leaned in close, eyebrows furrowed.

Phil's voice softened, even over the phone. "We found your friend."

I looked up at him. Color had blanched from Cap's face. "Wait, you found who?" I demanded.

"We found Bucky Barnes."

All of us froze, waiting to hear what Coulson would say next.

"He's being held with us. He did help to capture us, but then he flipped out a little bit afterwards and he couldn't be trusted by his employers any more. He's been with us for a while now and helped me make this call. He remembers everything now."

"You safe?" I said roughly, not daring to meet Cap's eyes when I said it. As much as I sympathized with the whole 'Winter Soldier' business, it wasn't one I cared to lose any friends or colleagues' lives to.

"As safe as it gets in a dungeon with rats crawling up your leg every few minutes. We'll be fine, we just can't stay here long. We're in line to be executed by the end of the week. If something happens and the schedule gets moved up—you get the idea."

"How long do you have now?"

"I've been informed Agent Hill is in line for Friday."

"Phil, that's tomorrow!"

"Oh, it is?"

"YES!" Everyone belted out.

Phil seemed startled from everyone answering at once. "You lose track of time in a dungeon, Clint! I'll see if I can switch with her. We'll see about—"

"Don't you dare switch spots," I snapped, irritated that he'd even consider such a thing. But of course, it was Phil I was talking to. "Nobody's switching spots, you hear me? That makes people angry. And we don't need anyone mad if we're going to get you out of there. Hey! Coulson! You hear me?"

Another sigh. "You're right."

"Fine. Now, do we need to know anything else?"

There was a murmur of talking on the other end, and then Coulson was back on. "Guard shifts every three hours, large prison. Do NOT make contact with the other prisoners, but don't freak out if you see them. There are some real fleabags down here," he sighed again.

The sighing part of it was beginning to make me a little worried. "We've got it covered. Don't worry about us. You hang on down there, all right?"

"Nothing but."

"All right," I smiled halfheartedly. "We're coming for you."

"Over and out."

"Same."

Avoiding the looks of the other Avengers, I turned off the phone and pulled the SIM card out. Out of my pocket, I fished a metal file that I used for fixing my hearing aids, and occasionally for breaking out of prisons. I used it to punch a solid hole through the middle of the card, headed to the bathroom, flushed both pieces down the toilet, and came out to hand Steve back his phone.

"Hope you didn't have anything important on there, Cap."

Steve stared at me. "Agent Coulson's alive?"

I resisted the urge to bang my head against something. "He is alive."

"Am I—the only one who is surprised by this?" Cap continued incredulously, looking around at the others.

"Who's Coulson?" Sam asked.

"Just so everyone knows, I'm not the mole," Sharon raised her hand sardonically. "I'm not actually with SHIELD, FYI for those who have forgotten. Or care."

" _I_ care," Steve eyed her, a slight smile on his face.

I was staring at my boots.

Yes, I _know_ , I did actually wear boots to a fancy-dress expo. Force of habit.

Now there were two jobs that needed to be done, and they were both equally important. Rescue SHIELD, deactivate Excelsior.

Part of me felt like I could manage the latter. Heck, I'd done crazier things than the former on my own before. But usually, with both types of missions, I'd have someone at my back going in with me. Usually Natasha.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on Excelsior while the rest of us go in," Steve was saying. "Then we can all fly in to Wakanda as fast as possible."

"I'll do it," I was volunteering before I even realized it.

"Thank you, Clint." Steve gave me a weird smile, and I realized I'd kind of been expected to take the job.

I felt a little embarrassed for having been hesitant at first.

But hey, what can a guy do when he's got a family at home he's trying to think about? I mean, I could totally take a fight with Black Widow, Iron Man, Vision, and War Machine all at once and walk out with only a few bruises, but who did Steve think I was, some kind of superhero?

I looked around me, automatically picking up my duffel and preparing to leave as I did so, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. I had no problem with an extra crazy mission every now and then to assert my place on the team—heck, I could use all the good rep I could get after getting screwed over by my very-ex-wife Bobbi when she decided to pop in and visit one day.

And stayed with the Avengers for three months...and got shaved by Natasha…long story.

Getting shot on the mission in Sokovia didn't help my case for belonging with the Avengers much, either. Everybody gets shot every once in a while, just not everybody gets incapacitated by a not-even-lethal wound.

So I had stuff to prove— _yes, Pietro, even at my age_.

Sometimes I just have to mentally curse at the kid just to pretend for a second that he's still around. I've discovered Wanda does the same thing, and just as colorfully.

But— _Natasha_. That just didn't bode well with me.

"Call us—I mean, call someone besides me," Steve instructed me, looking down at his now-useless phone in his hand. "—if anything even remotely happens. There's only five of us. Losing anyone at this point would be a disaster."

Wouldn't it be a disaster to lose a team member at _any_ point?

Inwardly I winced, but tried not to show it. "Check in after curfew. Got it," I nodded, heading out the door.

"The rest of us—" Steve indicated to the others, "—get some rest. We're all going to need it."

I stepped outside into the hallway, making my decision to sneak out the window instead of allowing the hotel staff to see where I'd went. That done, I shouldered my bag and took a large, long sniff of the sharp night air.

This was just fan-crapping-tastic. I was now a Stark fugitive, without any backup. Or sleep, but I was used to that.

I pulled out my phone and a very familiar feeling started humming through my veins.

"Natalia Romanova," I grinned slightly. "You're killing me."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Tony?" Pepper padded out into the living area in a T-shirt and pajama pants.

Tony didn't respond. He had a lens fixed over one eye and was deeply engrossed in working through the code imbedded in the disk he held in his lap.

"Is it broken?" she asked concernedly, leaning into the couch beside him.

"Mmm," Tony mumbled. "Mm-hmm. What did you say? Oh, no, no, no, it's not broken."

"Well, that's good," she said, after an awkward pause.

Refusing to take his eyes off the disk, Tony blindly groped for his laptop that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. When he found the keyboard, he started typing something out, pausing and squinting carefully at the result.

When it came in, he pulled off the lens, sitting back against the cushions with a loud exhale, running his hands all down his face and through his wild mane of hair.

His hand brushed Pepper's arm and he took hold of it, leaning over into it like it was a pillow. Pepper rolled her eyes and put her arm around him.

"It's almost right," he mumbled into her arm. "On paper, it works. It just can't connect wirelessly like it's supposed to. Older tech is resisting it. There's not a substance in the world that's absorptive enough to counteract the vibrations. All that coding I've been doing and it all comes back to duct tape. The thing won't hold together," he groaned dejectedly.

"Why don't you just experiment with a couple of new elements?" Pepper suggested. "Like you did a few years ago, except, I get that you were dying, not just trying to hold a hard drive in one piece, and I'd rather you held off on repeating _that_."

"Pepper, keeping someone like me in one piece is, incredibly, much harder than doing the same for the Excelsior disk," Tony quirked a small smile.

"Yes, I know," she laughed, petting his hair around more like he was a toy dog than her boyfriend. "Maybe because you're smart enough to fix the Excelsior disk and save the world from all the scary aliens." She stuck out her lip in a babyish pout.

"Is that all I'm good for?" Tony feigned offense. "That's all you think I'm good for, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know. The birthday present you let me pick out for me last month was pretty nice."

"I spared no expense."

"No, _I_ didn't."

Tony eyed her critically. "You know, for having just had your yard invaded by marauding Avengers who tore up all your lawn ornaments, you sound incredibly calm."

Instantly Pepper's face changed. "Oh, what the crap, Tony!" she nearly yelled, going red with anger. "I cannot believe what those guys did! The Avengers owe their very existence to you and they just—just—destroyed everything you ever worked for in one go! What were they thinking!? How could they betray us like that? The selfish, moronic, ungrateful idi—"

Tony shrugged, hiding a smile as he got up from the couch. He took his laptop and other gadgets with him. "You're very protective of me, you know that? It's a psychological condition that you suffer from continually. I'm thinking about calling it Pepperito—"

Pepper glared at him.

"—you know what, never mind!" he deadpanned. "How about you try yoga with Bruce? Or let me make you a smoothie. I'd just—rather, you know, that you didn't take all your righteous anger out on me—is why I'm saying all this," Tony shrugged awkwardly, cringing at every additional phrase that came out of his mouth in his attempts to appease her.

"Oh, this has been a horrible day!" Pepper moaned. "Why can't you just leave the Avengers?"

"Hey," Tony suggested, dumping his stuff in a cardboard box that just happened to be nearby. "Let's get to bed. We can deal with it in the morning—it'll all be fine, you'll see."

"No, it will not be fine!" she exclaimed. "Tony, if you closest friends are turning against you, who knows what the rest of the world will do when they find out about Excelsior?"

"I love that you think I have all the answers to these things, because that would make me even smarter than I already am, but I really don't."

Pepper sighed.

"Right now, I just think I hear the thousand-dollar Egyptian cotton sheets in the bedroom, audibly calling our names. I'm exhausted, Pep. I think I must've rewired Jarvis' consciousness into them and they've taken on a life of their own."

"You know what," Pepper frowned darkly, "that is not even funny. Because you would do that. You would actually rewire the sheets—"

"You know what," he backtracked quickly, "you're right. I am far too stressful for you to handle. So how about you come put me to sleep, and then it won't be so exhausting for you."

Pepper stared back at him, doubt and sadness building up in her eyes.

Tony set the box back down and took her shoulders in his hands. "Honey, I love you, and we're going to get through this. This is not the worst thing we've had to face together."

Pepper reached up and took hold of his hands, resting them on top of his. "I know," she sighed heavily. "And I love you, too."

They stood there for a moment.

"You know, it would be nice if you hugged me now," she suggested pointedly.

"That—yeah." Tony did hug her, gently pressing his forehead against her cheek and then kissing it afterward. "You know, these hug things are really not so terrible," he remarked, from his position wrapped around her waist.

"Mmm," Pepper groaned against him. "You should do them more often."

"Alright, if you say so."

"Come on. Let's get to bed."

… … … …

"You've got a lot of nerve, Barton."

"You're not the first girl that's ever told me that, you know," I allowed myself a cautious smirk at her response. I held the phone a little closer to my ear, almost-jogging up the road toward the Tower. I'd managed to hitchhike my way over here in less than three hours, quite a feat, considering the number of cars that were out at four in the morning.

" _What_ are you _doing_?" Natasha's annoyed voice came through again.

"Wish I knew," I replied honestly. "I just, you know, wanted to ask why you were suddenly planning on trading your whole family for the protection of a mind-reading computer robot that will attempt to control your whole life," I purposefully kept my voice as nonchalant as possible.

"I'm not trading you," the tone of her voice hadn't changed. " _You're_ trading _me_. The only reason I can think of is because you're paranoid. What the heck was all that about, Barton?"

"What, at the Expo?" I deadpanned.

"Wanda tried to kill Tony. Sharon tried to destroy Excelsior."

"Yeah, about 'Excelsior'—"

"Steve declared war and Falcon decided to take on the Hulk, for some idiotic reason. Why were you helping them?" she demanded.

"Okay, first of all, Wanda did not try to _kill_ Tony—"

"That's not the question I asked."

I stopped for a moment when I heard that tone in her voice.

That wasn't my Natasha. That was the cold, the deadly tone she almost never used with me. I'd only heard her use it twice when speaking in my direction, and none of those times were ones I cared to remember. Or relate this to, in any way.

"Look," I sighed, "I just want you to come home. Laura just wants you to come home. We all want you back, just because this is about to get a whole lot bigger than it is now, and I want you safe where I can keep an eye on you."

"Wow. Sounds like you want to be my babysitter. You know how well that's worked in the past."

"You know what I mean."

"Are you implying I didn't want to be part of this?" The question wasn't spoken that way. It was spoken like a fact. Like my death sentence, actually, in eleven little words.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you'd been—converted—to following the trends of technology by your would-be boyfriend?"

There was a momentary silence, but it finally gave way on Natasha's end. "Bruce came back and I wanted to be with him," she finally explained. "Tony and him were working on Excelsior long before now. I knew about it. I thought it would be a great way to unite the team," she took a deep breath. "That's what I was really hoping, ever since we started. After Loki came—" she sighed. "There's stuff out there, Clint, that we can't protect against unless we do it together. You know that better than anyone, because he _was inside your mind_. And I only just realized it but—I think maybe, I've been waiting my whole life to be a part of a team I could trust like this."

"But—" I was confused. "But you've been a part of our family ever since you were a kid. I don't understand why you would want something more than—"

"And then half of you go and betray me," Natasha interrupted him flatly. "I thought the Avengers were going to be my thing, and now they're split in half. Go figure."

I thought she was probably contradicting herself, but I didn't know how to point it out without making her angrier. "I dunno, Nat," I replied dully. "I dunno. I thought Hawk Delta Dogs was a pretty great team, myself. We fought off gangs and circuses and thieves, and criminals and thugs. And alley cats. You remember that one, come on?"

"That life hasn't been there for me, Clint," Natasha replied in a hard voice. "Not since I was _compromised_." The word was spoken like her own sentence on herself.

"Yeah," I admitted slowly, reluctantly. "Things are different now. You're different."

"Well, at least you finally figured that one out," Natasha muttered. "Only took you, what, eight years, since I got back? Since YOU got me back?"

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you," I continued, "Excelsior may sound great to you but imagine how it sounds to me. I've got a family depending for their lives on the secrecy of my profession and Tony's just gonna out there and put it all up. All that information, for anyone to see."

"Clint. We've been over things like this before," she groaned. "New technology is NOT always part of a giant conspiracy to take over the world. The privacy safeguards on this thing are like—oh, you wouldn't believe. Seriously. Just come on over to the Tower and I'll have them show you if that's what you want. They'll show you everything. We don't have to do this whole—fighting over nothing—thing. I don't _want_ to fight you."

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly uncomfortable even though this was exactly what I had been expecting. For being assigned a spy mission to breach the Tower, this sounded like the perfect opportunity. But I really, really didn't want Natasha to end up showing me something that would change my mind, either, or batting her little-girl eyelashes at me and convincing me not to fight her, _just because_.

"Fine," was how the conflict in my head emerged, "I'm comin'. Hang on."

I hung up, shaking my head at my own stupidity as I headed for the Tower.

… … … … …

"Wonderful to see you at last, my Kia!" the Wakamban king recognized the former SHIELD agent warmly, taking her hand and bending low to kiss it.

"Gross," she slapped it away, leaving him to grin idiotically after her as she strode through the double doors into his workshop. "T'Challa, I came to see your tech, and that's _all_ I came here to see," she threw a pointed look over her shoulder.

"Not even a 'hello' for your old friend?" T'Challa sighed, following her inside. "American women have lost the art of subtle flirtation."

"I think you'll find I flirt well enough when I'm trying to steal from you," the woman arched an eyebrow at him. "But even if I was doing that, I don't think I'd need it. You take care of all the flirting yourself."

"You are a great favorite of mine."

"You have fourteen wives and three concubines. Remind me why I'm not interested?" she calmly replied. "Where's the vibranium?"

T'Challa rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's in here," he gestured at a door to his right. "They're working on it especially for you. Ah, here it is!" he said at last, gesturing upwards and proudly surveying his technician's latest creation.

The woman had to feign disinterest when she saw it. The suit fashioned of vibranium, using old techniques used for chain mail, was truly a work of art.

"Capable of withstanding any blow known to man," T'Challa smiled broadly, his white teeth showing. "Forty thousand hinges make it finer than any chain mail of medieval times, yet infinitely more functional than Iron Man, in his suit that looks like it came out of that American film, _Transformers_ ," he guffawed.

She cracked a grin at the comparison. Seeing the way this suit molded to its frame, each tiny, almost microscopic, hinge conforming exactly to the pattern laid for it from the inside, and the way it shone like polished chrome even in the harsh white light of the workshop, gave her a thrill.

At last, she was doing something on her own, making her own decisions with no one to drag her down.

She, not Fury or SHIELD or even Coulson, was the one calling the shots.

"You will be the most powerful woman in the world," T'Challa gazed at her, longing clearly showing in his eyes.

She jumped, having almost forgotten he was there. "And it's still primarily powered from your plant?" she struggled to maintain her businesslike tone. "Proton energy, right? Wireless transmitter, I'm guessing, since I don't exactly want to be hooked up to a power cord."

"Yes. An infinite source of power. At least until we burn every atom on the planet, which would only occur after approximately seventeen point three trillion years."

"Yeah, but you still control it," she pointed out, reaching out to touch the suit.

It was cool but relentlessly hard to the touch. The entire suit refused to budge when she laid a finger on it. She tapped it harder and pulled back, wincing. A round, perfect bruise ached beneath the pads of her skin.

"That makes YOU the most powerful MAN in the world. More powerful than me," she quickly snapped her attention back to him.

"I empower it, yes," T'Challa said dryly. "But you are the controller, Kia. Honestly, who could ever hold down a woman like you?"

"Far too many in my lifetime," she replied coldly. "But I like the tech. You'll have your revenge on Tony Stark for letting Ultron destroy your factory and steal all your stuff. In fact," she arched an eyebrow at him, "I'll bet you anything they're already on their way here. Or at least, some of the Avengers. I'm headed back to New York as soon as I try this on, just to make sure everything's going as planned. They should be here within a day."

"Excellent!" T'Challa declared happily. "Here, take it. It is yours now, my gift to you." He reached into the case, took hold of the suit from the inside, rather than the outside, and pulled it out.

The agent watched in amazement as the inner half of the suit molded perfectly around his hand, giving way in every area his fingers put pressure.

"Don't touch the outside," he instructed. "But the inside should move however you want it to."

She took it where he indicated and began pulling her arms and legs through. "You're sure nothing can penetrate this?"

"It's a one-way joint," he explained, slipping into scientist mode. "Or rather, over three hundred thousand one-way joints. You could crack a boulder with your head and feel as though you had been hit by a raindrop. You could fall from twenty stories high and suffer no harm—except to have dented the ground beneath you by several hundred feet, perhaps."

"We'll see if it saves me from bruises, should I ever want to try such a ridiculous thing," she griped. The shimmering metal nearly slipped through her fingers more than once, but eventually, she pulled it all the way on. "Now—how do I close it?"

"There is a hidden magnetic audio relay," T'Challa explained. "It responds to your voice. Anything you say while inside will be transmitted through the metal and projected through each and every joint."

"Fascinating, I'll be a talking silver blob."

"Say, 'suit closed'"

"Suit closed."

The joints magnetically sealed themselves together around her, closing her in. Immediately, she found she could see through the joints in front of her eyes, although they sealed around her face so as to create a perfect mask. Her entire body was folded tightly inside. It fit her perfectly.

For a moment, she found she could hardly speak. She opened and closed her metal-encased hands, flexing and bending the fingers, and running them up and down the sheen of the suit as it clung to her exact shape. There was empty air space wasted between the joints and her body, yet she didn't feel hot or cold. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

"This is—incredible," she finally spoke, directing her gaze toward T'Challa. So what if it gave him a big ego. She couldn't hold back her amazement any longer. She swallowed hard, emptying her pride just for a moment. "Thank you."

A grin finally spread its way across his handsome face. "You are most welcome, Kia."

"Gosh, I feel like I need a superhero name," she continued to try moving in the suit. "Something other than 'Agent'. Like all the others do. I mean, you're the 'Black Panther' after all aren't you?"

He grinned, lifting a finger readily. "I shall call you—"

She held up a hand. "Uh-uh, Panther-Man. I'm going to come up with my own name, thank you very much. I'm grateful for your tech, not for your friendship, like I said before, even if you are a king."

"Some call me 'Your Majesty', but you call me 'Panther', as I like to be called. That is just one of the many reasons why I like you," T'Challa leaned against the display case and grinned shamelessly at her.

The nameless superhero stared back at him. "Huh. Guess I'd better go show the Avengers what we're made of, then." She strode out of the room, taking the door handle in her metal-plated hand. It was crushed instantly and suddenly removed completely from the door.

She stared down at it in surprise as T'Challa started laughing.

"Well, the Avengers are asking for it," she shrugged, leaving without so much as saying good-bye.

… … … … …

Natasha yawned as she stumbled out of her and Bruce's room in the wee hours of the morning. She quickly swung into Tony's desk chair and hacked his password on the second try.

Footsteps in the hallway caused her to look up, as Maria Hill came running into the office.

"Glad you could join us," Natasha said dryly, barely glancing from the screen.

"Sorry I missed everything," Maria was out of breath. "Romanoff, SHIELD's been compromised. Again. Or at least I got a message saying so. Coulson and his team are being held hostage along with a whole bunch of others and now they're requesting Avengers assistance. It's a disaster!" she threw up her hands in frustration.

Natasha continued her binary conversation with the still-malfunctioning Friday, trying to get the old girl to agree not to vaporize Clint the moment he stepped onto the property.

Maria frowned at her lack of interest and took a chair beside her. "This whole hostage situation could be a ruse to get us away from Excelsior so Captain Rogers can take it," she stated bluntly. "I don't like to suspect him of something that conniving but you know as well as I do that he's smart."

"Hmm. Interesting," Natasha replied in a bored tone. "What are you doing about it, then?"

"More like what are YOU doing about it," she griped, folding her arms around her chest.

"I only act like I do everything around here, Maria."

"Well, I only act like I want to do everything, and babysit everyone, frankly," Maria sassed in reply. "So are you going after the team, or not?"

"I'll probably send someone else to do it for me, like you've become so accustomed to," Natasha replied lazily, still focused on the screen. "I know now why you work for Stark—must be nice, having robots that do everything for you."

Maria caught sight of what she was doing just then and leaned in closer. "Is that Agent Barton?" she exclaimed, staring at the security camera reading Natasha had just brought up.

"No, it's a clone of him I biogenetically engineered, five years ago, so we could sneak into parties together."

"What's he doing here?" Maria eyed her sharply.

"He had a change of heart and switched sides."

"Really?!"

"No! It's none of your business."

"You know, as terrifying as I know you can be, it's hard to take you seriously when you're dressed like a middle-class American soccer mom at eleven a.m., without her coffee."

"Do you know how many ways I've been trained to kill people using coffee and a non-underwire bra?"

"Okay, now you're just being petty. Being with Banner's got you all soft," Maria rolled her eyes. "Literally. Is that plush?" she indicated the bathrobe.

Natasha glared from behind the, hot pink with tiny heart patterns on it, plush.

"Seriously, what are we going to do about Barton?"

"I thought you were worried about SHIELD." She leaned back and propped her bare legs up on the desk.

Maria leaned in close. "I'm worried about how we can stall Captain Rogers and pull off a rescue for SHIELD at the exact same time," she explained coldly. She sighed. "Romanoff."

"What?" Natasha snapped, still typing. The screen flashed with green, and she flopped back in her chair, knowing that Clint was now home-free to get in.

"It may not be the best idea I've ever had," Maria began carefully, "but if we—apprehended—Agent Barton—DON'T give me that look," she complained sternly. "Not saying we SHOULD; just saying, IF we did hold him captive here, you staying behind could function as a motivation for Rogers not to burn this place down looking for Excelsior." Maria heaved a huge sigh. "You know as well as I do that he would easily resort to that. As much as we love him, Captain Rogers can be—very much like—Fury at some times. The biggest difference being that he isn't secretive about his actions at all. Now, if we were to hold Barton hostage for a short time, Excelsior would be safe for the time it would take to rescue SHIELD, or at least go down there to Wakamba and figure out what's going on and trace it to whoever sent the message."

"Good grief, it's three a.m. Aren't you ladies exhausted?" a third, tired voice interrupted their conversation.

Both women whirled around to see Pepper, emerging from her bedroom in a robe that looked exactly like Natasha's.

Natasha gave Maria a look. "You can share her skinny dresses all you want. This," she indicated the loose-fitting robe, "is what I get to borrow when I'm living here."

Pepper peered at the screen through bleary eyes. "Who's that?" she asked sharply.

"It's just Clint," Natasha replied quickly, as though it were no problem.

Pepper's eyes grew wide. "What? Clint?! He can't be here! Shut the doors down!"

Maria threw up her hands. "It's okay!" she reassured Pepper. "We've got a plan."

' _We'._ Natasha rolled her eyes. If worst came to worst, she figured she could always break Clint out herself when nobody was looking. She could find a way to fool Pepper into thinking it _wasn't_ her fault he escaped, right?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I knew better than to come in the front door, whether it was open or no. However Natasha might take it, Steve HAD just declared war on Tony, so it was best to avoid unnecessary appearances on security cameras, if at all possible. Of course, I'd probably already appeared on at least twelve of them surrounding the perimeter, but none of them could pinpoint exactly where I slipped inside.

I climbed all the way up the first staircase, heading for Tony's lab. Natasha was nowhere around.

Then, as soon as I entered the open hallway, a lone figure emerged, holding a tiny, SHIELD-issued EMP. I whirled around to shoot, with my smaller, espionage-customized bow ready to release.

It wasn't Natasha, however. It was—

"Agent Hill?" I stepped back.

Maria Hill smiled wanly, her little finger ready on the EMP trigger as reflexively as mine was on my bowstring.

"Phil said you were in Africa," I accused, first of all.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. He was gonna trade places with you. Keep you from getting executed."

"Maybe he should have," Maria shrugged, looking entirely unsurprised. "Might've hurt less than the alternative."

I stared evenly at her. "Maria," my voice dropped, "what are you doing?"

She gave me a sympathetic look, and sighed. "It's complicate—"

The tiniest wind on the back of my neck, coupled with that sixth sense feeling you get sometimes in the field, told me someone was behind me. I spun, grabbing whoever it was by the neck.

Yep. Natasha. I should've known.

I dodged the headbutt she was attempting to give me and grabbed her shoulders instead, swinging her arms behind her back and twisting them. She attempted to stomp on my foot, but I moved just in time. Then she faked another head shot, pinching the nerves in my hand to free one of her arms and elbowed me in the stomach, just hard enough to make me choke and release my grip. I stretched out and kicked at her thigh, just above her knee, but she leaped back and just circled me instead. I rushed forward and brought my arm up around her neck after deflecting a few punches and she jammed her chin down, making it hard to get a grip.

"Kids, please," Maria groaned. She walked up, narrowly missing a kick to the gut in the process. Deflecting it, she and Nat suddenly spun in tandem, taking both of my legs out from under me at once. I grabbed them and took them both with me on the way down.

Maria smacked her head on the floor before she could roll, like Natasha did, and I was on her in a split second. Before I could think, one of my arrows was out and held above her face, ready to—I don't know. Kill her?

Fortunately, Natasha grabbed my around the head with her legs just then, preventing me from having to think about THAT just yet. Also, the scissors to the head being a classic Natasha move, I knew exactly how to get out of it before I even hit the floor.

It really felt like my lucky day.

But, that was the idea. Natasha leaped away as I disentangled myself from her, and Maria hurtled the EMP at my back before I could catch it. I had just enough time to turn and see what had hit me before it imploded in my face. I saw a flash of white, and then everything spun, and went black.

… … … …

The thing about concussions, which I've learned without really wanting or trying to, is that they're like a miniature form of brain damage. Get a few little ones over the years, you should heal up completely and be fine. Fall off a trapeze and don't wake up for three days? That may result in permanent damage, like near-total hearing loss. That lovely introduction to the world of head injuries happened when I was eight and stupid and decided to sneak around the circus equipment at Carson's.

Fortunately, SHIELD technology is pretty good with hearing aids, including ones that can even go in water or be stomped on without breaking or losing power. But yeah, I'm Hawkeye, the world's only deaf AND superpower-less Avenger. It comes with its challenges.

I don't know if the piercing ring I get in my ears when waking up from getting knocked unconscious is due to that, or if everybody hears the same sound when it happens to them. All I know is that waking up hurts. And you can't remember how you got there. Sometimes you feel sick. Mostly, your head just hurts really, really bad.

"Nice to see you awake," Maria's cold, yet somehow casual, tone managed to penetrate the silence I was fostering for the sake of my brain.

I forced my eyelids open, glancing around the fuzzy-looking room—which actually looked more like a closet, before looking to her. "Where's Natasha?" I ground out.

"Not here. Actually, Pepper is waiting just outside. She has some questions for you. First of all, why did you decide to turn on Stark and help Rogers hijack his exposition? You put a lot of civilians at risk, and we both know that's not like you."

I looked down. I was propped up in a corner, strapped tightly by my arms, hands behind my back, and ankles with what could only be dozens of layers of fishing line. I wasn't even given a chair I could use to smash through the door with. How kind Maria had been to think of everything.

"You know," I spat, wincing as another sharp pain shot through my head, "you could have just said, 'please' instead of dragging me in here like this. _Almost_ like being interrogated," I arched an eyebrow at her. "Which I've had a lot of experience with."

"Just answer the question," she pressed her lips tightly together.

"You think I thought there was gonna be a fight?" I asked heatedly. "If I'd have known that, I would've stayed home. I've got a three-month-old son. You think I wanted to be here for any reason except to admire Mr. Stark's work?"

She glared at the quipping tone I used and stood, hands on her hips as she faced me. "Then why did you make a big spectacle of the situation by being the first one to interrupt him during his speech, and later aiding and abetting while Rogers and his ex-SHIELD girlfriend attempted to destroy his invention?"

"How would you know?" I grimaced, shuffling so my boots were placed more directly under me, so I'd be ready to stand if I needed to. "I thought you weren't even there."

"I told you, these aren't my questions, they're Miss Potts'."

"Well, get her in here, then, and make her ask them herself!"

Maria just stood there, stoically, for a second, before making her decision and moving to the door. "You try to move and I'll shoot you in your bow arm," she threatened, hand ready on the gun.

I rolled my eyes and immediately regretted it. It took me a couple of moments before I could see straight again, and by then, I could see Pepper had come in and was standing, looking like a calm mask of fury under a pinstripe business suit and heels.

"Here Tony thought you were a good man," Pepper was saying, shaking her head at me. "We should've known better than to trust a spy and an assassin. When's the last time you knew how to be loyal to anyone, or anything?" her voice rose shrilly and I cringed.

"Look, Pepper—"

"Don't 'Pepper' me! Do you know what you could have done to his career? What you've done to his faith in humanity? Do you have any earthly idea how long it's taken t—"

Maria cleared her throat loudly, interrupting her and giving her a look. Pepper stopped, but glared daggers at me anyway from behind the portfolio she clutched in her arms. "Enough with the sappy part of this—Clint, the real question is, what happened out there and how much do you know about what Rogers has planned? You're not my enemy, and neither is Steve. We just need to know what the heck is going on, because people's lives—the very future of humanity is at stake."

I swallowed carefully, adjusting my position again. "Future of humanity, my ass. Stark's gonna unwittingly destroy whatever of that's left."

"Romanoff was hoping you would just volunteer the information," Maria shook her head, exchanging a glance with Pepper. "She DID say she trusted you might be trying to balance out the argument between Rogers and Stark, but is that really what you're doing?"

I wished I knew. I really did.

"I was just doing my job, Hill. I didn't mean to get caught up in this, I really didn't."

"I'll believe you when you tell Miss Potts everything that Rogers has planned, and how badly he wants Excelsior gone. Furthermore, since Tony doesn't exactly want half of the Avengers to be turned against him, you could at least try to explain some of the logic behind Steve's wanting to destroy the man he's been working with as a close friend and teammate for the past four years."

"Rogers didn't have anything planned!" I ground out, mustering the darkest glare possible when my head felt like it was about to explode behind my eyeballs. "Stark decides to shock us all by stealing our personal files and creating technology no living being can handle, which is not that hard to understand, honestly. We're the Avengers. We've seen power, and technology, and information cause a fair amount of damage in the last few years, and we'd really rather not see it again!"

I could feel them staring at me as I squeezed my eyes shut, willing some of the pain to subside before I kept going.

"If any part of this was a planned way to stop Excelsior, it was me. And we're all looking at how that turned out. The rest of the team," I could feel the impatience jutting into my voice, "is busy doing what Avengers should be doing, and are trying to save the SHIELD team that called us. Which I'm still trying to figure out, since Coulson said you were with him, and yet here you are."

"I'm the one doing the interrogation here, Barton," Maria stated flatly, eyes half-lidded.

So it _was_ an interrogation. How _nice._

"Wait," Pepper's eyes widened in confusion, "did you just say 'Coulson'?"

"Wow," Maria fixed on me in sarcastic appreciation, "that was smooth. Giving away Level 7 secrets left and right now, are we?"

"There's no more Level 7!" I groaned. "There's not even a SHIELD anymore!"

"But why did you say Phi—" Pepper started.

"Oh yes, there is a SHIELD," Maria interrupted, glaring at me. In a few seconds, she suddenly seemed much taller. I started to slide up the wall, getting to my feet, but she stepped forward and shoved me down, kicking me in my bad knee as I plopped back down on the ground, my head jarring painfully.

She knew me too well. This was starting to go from bad to worse.

"You're right. There is a SHIELD," Maria said, her voice quiet and dark, "Who put Coulson in charge, without any input from Fury's own right hand. There is a SHIELD that didn't even think of hiring me back on as anything other than an Avengers secretary. I am a part of that SHIELD, but only because nobody asked me if I wanted to be or not."

She turned and strode purposefully out of the closet, leaving me and Pepper staring at her, wondering where THOSE feelings had come from. Miss 'Ice Queen' herself rarely put on a display like that, if ever. Words like that could get agents put on insubordination leave, don't ask me how I know this.

I turned to Pepper, looking for some explanation about why they were keeping me in here, or how long it would be until they let me out, or returned, or something, but all I got was a cold, chilling stare.

Stark Industries' CEO clipped past me in her high heels, shutting the door behind her as she left.

I leaned my head back against the wall to get my bearings. Was I technically even being held hostage? For all I knew, that door was unlocked, but I wasn't about to try it until Maria and Pepper were a few rooms away. My befuddled head couldn't decide what to do. I was tied up and concussed, and nowhere closer to finding the Excelsior disk yet. But these were still my friends—I wasn't in any real danger from them, right?

… … … … …

Tony and Natasha were bickering over coffee and computer readouts, trying to get some location on their rogue friends who had taken off the night before, when Maria slipped into the room, followed closely by Pepper, who was beginning to get a little frustrated with having to follow her secretary around, rather than it occurring the other way around like she was used to.

"Clint has confirmed that Rogers and the rest of the team are headed in to rescue a hostage SHIELD team in Wakanda, Africa," Maria stated crisply, causing both of their heads to snap up. "On that note, since everyone else seems to be finding out about it anyway, I think it's in your best interest to know that Agent Phil Coulson is still alive."

Tony went very pale and stood before he could even process what he'd heard. "Phil-?" he started.

"Phil," Pepper nodded, relief palpable in her tone as she and Tony exchanged a deep, long look. Then she swallowed, looking to Maria. "He did say something about him being the one who called Captain Rogers," she started. "Is that supposed to mean—"

"He is alive," Maria nodded in confirmation. "He has been—ever since, you know, he—died. They were able to bring him back." She was careful not to specify HOW. "Coulson is now the Director of SHIELD due to Director Fury's mandatory absence. He may be in Wakanda with the rest of the team. There's no way to know for certain. SHIELD is certainly much smaller now than it was before, but it IS still there."

Tony blinked.

Natasha still sat, trying to hide a small smile behind her coffee mug, so as not to be a jerk by revealing that she'd known all along, and never told them.

Bruce suddenly came rushing in. "I heard something about—I mean, I just—" he stuttered.

Pepper started laughing quietly, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Phil's alive?" she repeated after Maria.

Bruce's face dropped. "Is he, really?"

"He can't be. He promised to write—he never did. I'm gonna sue his ass off," Tony began rambling, still halfway in shock.

"HOW?!" Pepper exclaimed loudly, suddenly turning on Maria.

"Yeah, really!" Tony waved his hands in the air. "He was stabbed through the heart! With a giant spear that had magic powers!"

Maria allowed Bruce a small grin. "You of all people, Dr. Banner, should know what a fine line exists between dead and alive these days."

Bruce visibly gulped. He had, after all, been working extensively on defibrillators and other medical equipment as of late. "Right. I guess it-it could make sense. There's something SHIELD's not telling us, what else is new?" he chuckled nervously.

"Okay," Tony announced in a louder tone, a little breathlessly. "Let's all have a drink to Phil. But first, we've got to go save him again, to make sure nothing like this ever happens a second time. 'Cause if he died a second time, I don't think I'd believe him. Come on, gang. No sense in letting Cap steal the whole party."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Natasha challenged, but more for the sake of bringing it up than as a statement of any heat.

"Hey, your not-boyfriend Hawkwings is in the closet downstairs. He won't be there. Who else are you afraid to fight? Come on, let's go rescue SHIELD and bring Phil back to the Avengers, where he belongs."

Tony was out of the chair in a moment, Natasha following him after flashing a brief grin to Maria.

The look was not exchanged. Maria was already deeply engrossed in her spreadsheet, which she took from Pepper, who tersely manhandled it back from her. The two women exchanged a brief, heated glance.

Bruce, in the corner, squirmed. It seemed nearly everyone was getting on each other's nerves today. He wasn't sure the Hulk would be so happy if he found himself in the middle of it later on.

Now he had to go back down to the lab and deal with the gang of college geniuses Tony had recruited the night before.

Maybe he should've stayed behind in Roma, with the Russian gypsies.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Lieutenant Barnes?"

Bucky looked up through his scraggly mop of hair, suspicious about the man in front of him. After all, this newcomer was outside the cell, and Bucky was inside. It was if nothing a familiar setup. "Who're you?" he asked gruffly.

"Director Phil Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," the man replied with a light smile, displaying his credentials.

Bucky merely curled his lip and stared, but he didn't lash out. There was something about the man that held him back.

Coulson stared back at him. "What?"

"What?" Bucky smirked.

"No snarky comments, no suggestions about how we shorten the name so it's less of a mouthful?" Coulson was incredulous.

When Bucky didn't answer, he shrugged.

"I can work with that." He sounded pleased. "Mind if I come in?"

"Knock yourself out," Bucky grunted, though he shifted uncomfortably.

Other people in his cell still gave him a knee-jerk hesitation. He didn't even know why he was allowing this Coulson guy to enter, except that he had actually thought to ask, which was unexpected. "Who's she?" he noticed, indicating the young brunette standing behind him.

"This is Agent Johnson," Coulson motioned to the woman, who nodded in Bucky's direction and gave a slight wave. "The Wakandan government was kind enough to let us in to speak with you after they informed us they had brought you in. Do you have any idea what they wanted you for?"

These people weren't afraid of him. It was a weird feeling. Bucky frowned. "It doesn't usually matter who's bringing me in. I've been all over the world. Everyone fears me."

"Have you committed any crimes specifically against the Wakandans? Or do you even remember?"

"How are you just standing there?" Curious now, Bucky scrambled to his feet, shaking the straw from the floor off his torn jeans and scratching his head absently. "You know who I am."

"More than you realize, actually," Coulson nodded. "Everyone knows that you're a merciless assassin. We also happen to know you're a friend of Steve Rogers."

Bucky's eyes darkened in an attempt not to react. "How did you—"

"When I first joined SHIELD, I saw your name on a memorial wall dedicated to agents who died in the field," Agent Johnson stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. She had a pleasant, but serious, expression as she sized him up. Again, someone so young and much smaller than he was, and not a trace of fear in her eyes. "We consider all of the Howling Commandoes some of our first, founding members. SHIELD has known you for many years as a mercenary, but you're also our hero," her eyes softened.

"The fact is, we'd really like to know if you'd be willing to come back with us and meet with Captain Rogers. He's been very anxious to see you, as I'm sure you know," Coulson continued. "You've been running away from him, and I can't blame you for it considering what's happened to you, but if you want a chance to start over, now's as good a time as any to claim it."

Bucky clamped his jaw shut and paced the cell momentarily, before speaking with his back turned to them. "It's a little fuzzy," he explained quietly after a moment, "but I seem to remember destroying SHIELD with the help of Hy—" he stopped and swallowed hard instead of saying _"Hydra"_. He straightened his shoulders, cleared his throat, and continued. "Can you explain that?"

"We've done some research into your background and we know that you were being used as a puppet," Coulson asserted. "After the attack you led, SHIELD was secretly reformed with some of the few remaining loyal members who were still willing to put their lives on the line."

"Just don't put that information on Facebook or we might have to kill you," Johnson teased, causing Bucky's mouth to involuntarily twist into a smile.

"Those members have been dedicated to a number of highly classified missions, one of which includes finding you after Captain Rogers told us of your real identity."

"Identities are funny things," Bucky glowered. "They change with time."

"Yes, they do," Agent Johnson agreed. She stared evenly at him, and he thought he detected a hint of empathy in the young woman's eyes. Strange, that someone as young as she was could know anything about changing one's identity. He supposed she was a spy, after all.

"That's why we want to bring you into SHIELD," Coulson nodded. "We know that you have potential far beyond what the Russian government made you into as the Winter Soldier. The fact that I'm having this conversation with you after so many years of brainwashing shows me that you're even stronger, mentally, than we could have ever anticipated. If you're willing, we're ready to negotiate with the Wakandans to set you free and allow you to return to the States with us, not as a prisoner, but as a free man. It's your choice what you do with your life from there, so long as it isn't a danger to others."

Bucky looked away, thinking hard.

"Do those terms sound fair to you?" Coulson asked again.

"It would be fair," he replied at last, eyeing Coulson and Johnson carefully, "If I knew I could trust you."

Coulson nodded, mouth settled in a hard line. "Believe me, I think I know a thing or two about untrustworthiness after half of my colleagues deserted SHIELD for Hydra."

Bucky's eyes snapped and his whole body jerked, uncontrolled, when he said the word.

Coulson noticed it and frowned apologetically. "Sorry."

Embarrassed, and trying hard to forget the name, Bucky sighed and straightened his back and shoulders. "I could break out of this hell-hole in ten minutes if I wanted to," he admitted, with staunch pride, to Coulson, "but sometimes, even prison's better than nothing."

"I understand. I promise, it's not better than what we're offering you. Just ask Steve. Or Daisy here. Or anyone, even those who eventually deserted, who SHIELD offered a better chance at using a valuable and potentially dangerous source of strength."

"You think I won't go crazy halfway there and kill you both?"

"Actually, my whole team came to see you brought out. You'd have to kill all of them," Coulson's mouth quirked.

"I'll take the offer," Bucky's voice was low, as he stared at both of them.

Daisy smiled broadly. Coulson looked pleased as well.

"You don't need me to tell you what happens if you cross me, I guess," a slight smirk edged its way onto his face.

"I'm well aware; I witnessed it through the eyes of a few good agents of mine," Coulson acknowledged. "Wait here. We'll have you released in no time."

Bucky nodded; a thank-you would have been too casual. He didn't trust anybody, but there were degrees of trust. If he was ever going to do something with his life, this looked like the best chance he was going to get.

Daisy smiled at him as she went out. "I think you're going to like working for SHIELD. Phil's a little old-fashioned, but you get used to it."

Bucky snorted, but he gave her a slight smile in return as the cell door clanged shut.

… … … …

"He didn't seem so bad," Daisy remarked to Phil as they rounded the corner to exit the prison blocks.

"I definitely was prepared for worse," Phil agreed, settling a hand on her shoulder. "Considering what we know, personally, about what Hydra can do to people's minds, he got lucky."

Daisy stared at the ground as she walked. She preferred NOT to think about Ward, her old supervising officer. He was a little crazy. But he liked Hydra, and what they stood for, unlike Barnes who had unwillingly been subjected to them.

As they entered the foyer of the Wakandan prison warehouse, the rest of the team rose from their seats to greet them.

"What's the stat.?" Bobbi Morse asked, eyebrows arched in anticipation.

"I think he's fine," Coulson replied with a smile. "He's agreed to come back with us."

"Sir, we've got breaking news from our contact at the Stark exposition," Jemma Simmons handed him her tablet, concern written on her face. "I'm afraid it's worse than we thought."

"Well, we can't always have good news, can we?" Phil sighed, taking it from her. He looked over the video feed of the Avengers fighting one another, people in fancy dress running and screaming, and the lights flickering on and off for a long, distraught moment before handing it back to her. "If His Majesty comes back to speak with us, May can do the talking," he nodded to his senior agent, who nodded with her arms folded across her chest. Phil stepped slightly away from the group. "I have to make a call."

The other agents began talking amongst themselves as Phil dialed the, increasingly familiar, phone number and raised the speaker to his ear. "Kate?" he smiled worriedly.

"Don't worry, Baby, everything's under control!" the woman's voice shouted over the noise of people running and screaming in the background, sarcasm pervading her every word.

"It's bad, I know. I just saw the footage you sent. What do you need?"

"Uh, to get the civilians out of here, for starters!" Kate Bishop's voice breathed heavily.

"Do it, then. I'm sending backup, but I think you can handle this, Hawkeye. Just don't let Barton see you—you might confuse him and he can't afford that right now. I know you haven't seen him in a while. We've got Barnes and just as soon as he's out of—"

Phil froze, the noise on the phone fading. There was someone watching, something—not quite normal.

"Phil? Honey?" Kate's voice came, but it sounded distant to him. He was focused on whatever was happening behind him.

Out of nowhere, a metal-enclosed fist struck out and snatched the phone from his hand, smashing it and throwing it to the ground before grabbing Phil around the neck. "May?" he shouted before her grip closed around his throat. "MAY!"

His agents came running just as the metal-suited woman's full form came into view, a full-body interlocking case surrounding every inch of her flesh. It was impossible to tell if she was human, inhuman, alien, or something else entirely.

"Coulson!" Daisy yelled, shaking the ground underneath the metal woman's feet to try and break her grip on him. Phil pulled his gun with a free hand and fired several rounds at the enemy's armor, but none of them penetrated.

Lincoln ran up and jumped on the woman's back, only to fall off with a cry of pain. Daisy looked down at him with wide eyes. Her friend's arms, face, and knees were covered in bloody bruises.

"Drop Phil," May ordered in an icy voice.

"And at any rate, don't just stand there," Lance taunted her, gun raised toward the female apparition's sleek, featureless head. "You could at least tell us what you want."

Covertly, Bobbi was pulling out her batons. Lincoln picked himself off the ground with a hand from Daisy, and nodded toward Bobbi as he prepared to use the electricity she produced. Maybe he could use his body or another object to block Coulson from being—well, fried—along with the mysterious enemy?

Suddenly, the plan didn't seem like such a good one. He gestured toward Bobbi and shook his head vehemently. She lowered her eyes but stood ready.

The chrome figure released her grip on Phil's throat, but as he retreated away from her, she swung a single metal fist effortlessly toward his midsection. Phil choked and collapsed and the others gasped as they realized the fist had penetrated his flesh.

Jemma ran toward him, trying to help, and Leo followed at her heels and threw himself in front of the two.

"You monster!" he seethed in his thick Scottish accent. "What have you done?"

Phil gripped the back of Leo's jacket. "Fitz, don't," he gasped, "I'm okay."

"Oh my gosh, you are bleeding everywhere," Jemma exclaimed, noting the deep impression where the fist had gone through Coulson's midsection. Biting her lip, she quickly surveyed him with a scientifically trained eye and clamped her hand down over the wound. Phil gasped in pain.

Bobbi immediately hurtled one of her sizzling batons at the woman. It sparked and flashed before dropping harmlessly to the ground. Lincoln, grabbing the other baton, growled as he absorbed all the energy he could from it before throwing himself at her a second time, only to find himself being gripped beneath his shoulders and lifted off the ground. He grit his teeth and tried not to instinctively fight her, as her metal fingers felt like hot pokers, melting into his arms.

The chrome woman spoke for the first time. "Stand down and march, or he dies," she said clearly, in a voice that sounded distinctly and eerily human.

Almost—familiar.

Shaking with rage, Daisy took a step forward. "Why?" she demanded.

Lincoln met each of their eyes with a wide, doubtful expression of his own. "Coulson needs help," he winced and groaned as the metal hands tightened their damaging grip on his arms. "Go!"

Daisy's mouth dropped open as she saw how the pressure of his weight alone was causing dark, deep bruises to form wherever it touched the metal.

"Don't even think about it, Sparkplug," Coulson breathed shallowly from the ground. "We don't leave one of our own—behind."

"I'll decide what we do," May announced authoritatively. "Before we do anything you ask of us," she directed her steely gaze to the metal woman, "You WILL tell us what you want from us."

"Uh, guys? Too late no nego."

They all turned at Lance's voice to see that they were totally surrounded by Wakandan special ops gunmen, all aiming straight for them.

Fitz and Bobbi had their hands up before they even saw how many there were. Daisy soon followed, with Jemma, and Hunter, and finally a proud, reluctant May.

"Into the building! All of you!" ordered the commander in a distinctly authoritative, military tone.

The agents of SHIELD exchanged a long, slow glance. They had no choice any more.

… … … …

Natasha slid cautiously down the corridor, stopping every few steps to pick another of the African-plains brambles she'd acquired on the way over out of her suit. She hated wildlife. That was more of Clint's thing.

All of a sudden she sensed someone behind her. She swung around, nearly knocking Sharon Carter in the jaw. The other agent immediately pointed her handgun at her and Natasha smirked. "Carter?"

Another figure appeared behind Sharon, large eyes warily taking in the situation.

"Maximoff?"

And THEN, another one!

"Wilson? What is this, you guys, a party?"

"Where's Coulson?" Sharon ordered.

Natasha ignored her, brushing past on her way down the hall. Rhodey joined her as she rounded the corner. He peered over at their new company. "Just what we need," he muttered to her, under his breath.

"Just leave them alone and we'll get out of here without turning this into a disaster," Natasha muttered back, forcing a fake calm into her voice.

The way Wanda had looked at her, sweet innocent little Sokovian Wanda, had been a tiny bit disconcerting. Now that Natasha had trained her, personally, in combat and espionage skills, the little witch was even more dangerous than before when she'd literally turned Natasha's brain inside-out upon their first meeting.

Not that Natasha was worried, per se. A bad trainer feared her own students.

"Where are you, Phil?" she mumbled impatiently, scanning another hallway before moving briskly onward.

Rhodey hadn't been able to sneak in wearing his suit, so he was armed with a pistol he pointed ahead of them before every hall they passed and was on double—no, triple—alert now that their other guests had arrived.

Sharon walked after Natasha, frowning darkly. Apparently she was pretty determined to keep up and find the other SHIELD agents alongside her. Wanda followed along with Sam, who was guarding the space behind them as they went. Natasha didn't want to know how he'd managed to sneak in his wing pack, let alone the hoard of weapons he had attached to it.

"You're a sight!" a sharp voice snapped at her, causing her to whirl around in surprise. The voice was coming from down low, behind the cell doors.

She peered in closely, trying to see through the dark. Behind her, the others strained to see as well. It looked like—

"Not gonna give a galactic savior a hand, huh? No butts to the raccoon? No panic, no lightning, no fireworks show?" continued the small creature jammed up against the bars.

Wanda let out a tiny scream. "Oh my gosh, it's a porcupine," she screeched under her breath.

"It's-a talking—raccoon," Rhodey struggled out, his jaw having gone nearly slack. Natasha raised a disgusted eyebrow.

"This is what Coulson meant by there being fleabags in other cells," Sharon spoke up tensely, grabbing her companions and trying to pull them past the freakish creature so they could be on their way. Slowly, Natasha turned on her heel and left, the rest following.

It seemed there was yet another thing she did NOT want to know more about.

"Wha—wha—wha—come back here, you diesel-eating hunks of slime!" the raccoon called angrily after them. "Really? I was about to get out of this roach-infested prison! Hey—I'll give you money! Cranberries! Precious gems! My long-lost brother as a pet? Anything!" he called after them desperately, but they kept going.

WHATEVER that thing was, they weren't about to trust or let it free anytime remotely soon.

"Dishonor on your cow!" the raccoon called, his voice nasally as it got farther away. "Oh, come on, they told me that line would work on this planet!"

"What WAS that thing?" Wanda hissed at the rest of them.

"Let's find Phil," Natasha changed the subject brusquely. The rest agreed.

"Agent Romanoff? Agent Carter!" a voice called from another cell. The five of them came running forward to see Daisy Johnson grinning at them from behind bars. She looked disheveled, and worried, and had a scrape under one eye, but she was full of bounce and an almost annoying level of energy, as always.

"Skye, where are the others?" Sharon demanded. Natasha glared at her but quickly swallowed her pride. It was stupid to be angry at Sharon when they were here to save _Phil._

"That way," Daisy pointed, frowning when Sharon called her by her old name. "Let me out though, first!" she shouted quickly, preventing them from taking off without her.

"What is this, SHIELD for kindergarteners?" Natasha frowned at Daisy, picking the lock on the door with a small knife in mere seconds.

Daisy tossed her head and gave her a saucy look.

"How is he?" Sharon asked Daisy in a low voice. Natasha's ears pricked up. They had another conversation she didn't hear the whole of because just down the hall, in the other cells, the other SHIELD agents were waiting.

Jemma, Fitz, May, Bobbi, Hunter, and Lincoln were all within a few meters of each other. Lincoln was bruised so badly he was slow on his feet, but Daisy dropped back to help him. Natasha stored the information in the back of her mind to ask about later. He looked as though he'd been crushed by something—or someone.

"Where's Coulson?" she asked the group once they were all gathered up.

"No idea," Fitz stated somberly.

"Is there anyone beside him still missing?" Sharon added softly.

The rest shook their heads.

Natasha got the feeling of the hair pricking up on the back of her neck. She knew it well—it was the natural sense that someone was watching them. Frantically, she motioned for everyone to be silent.

Suddenly a white metal figure slammed into her with a 'THUNK!'

Natasha couldn't hold back a cry of surprise as she was knocked to the ground. The metal felt so heavy it couldn't be natural, and she instantly felt wet bruises forming under the points of impact. Five SHIELD agents and three Avengers were on the faceless figure instantly and somebody hauled her, staggering dizzily, to her feet.

In the dim light, she could make out a blur of shining, chrome-colored metal. Was it—

"Vibranium," she whispered, watching in horror.

The creature stood, throwing off all eight assailants like they were made of plastic. Well-trained backflips and smooth landings were executed, but a few 'oof!'s were still heard. The form was female, but other than that, it was impossible to tell anything about her. She didn't even have a face. She grabbed several more agents who had piled on, throwing them to the side, crushing an arm in her grip.

Bobbi screamed, and Natasha knew the newly-destroyed arm had been hers. She felt an unfamiliar twinge of pity for the woman she hadn't been able to stand since she was a teenager. Bobbi's arm, when she pulled away, was bright red and white. Soon enough, it would be purple and black.

Natasha subconsciously felt the bruise on the side of her face and along her shoulder and thigh. Tender strips of flesh stuck to her fingers when she pulled away.

"Everyone get out!" she barked authoritatively to the group of agents. She pulled her ear communicator. "Stark, it's time to get out of here. Unidentified woman who appears to be made of vibranium. I repeat, very dangerous. Get us out, now."

"Copy that," Tony's voice came through. "Er, that would be—I would happily copy that, except there's been a slight problem—"

"What is it?!" she snapped.

"The jet's malfunctioning!"

"Fix it then!" Natasha hissed.

"No can do—the engine's missing. Little Miss Sunshine just came by and yanked it out and I don't want to count how many pieces it's in right now."

"You're useless," Natasha spat, frustration boiling over inside her. Clint would not have let 'Krome' steal their whole ENGINE. Clint would have been a better pilot, found a way to stop her, been ABLE to pick them UP. Whose idea had it been for Tony to fly anyway? Oh, right. Tony's.

The other agents ran, letting Krome follow them in pursuit. Natasha doubled back and began to search the rest of the cells, frantically trying to find, or hear, any sign of Phil.

Cautiously, she ducked behind a door and hid for a moment, listening for any signs of activity.

All was completely silent in the hallway, as she slowly counted to ten. She dashed out and continued running, not daring raise her voice to call out Coulson's name.

Halfway across, she stopped, gun drawn as she turned in a circle, scanning all the empty cells.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled up again. Her eyes widened and she turned.

The vibranium woman was standing within two feet of her.

She nearly swallowed her own heart, turned and ran as fast as she could, finishing that hallway and dashing around into the next. Krome, for being so mysterious, seemed to run more slowly than she did, so she kept going, heart pounding in her chest, something from dinner last night threatening to come up on her.

The footsteps behind her stopped. She swung around. Krome was nowhere in sight. "Phil?" she barked out, senses on high alert.

"Natasha!"

Her name had never sounded sweeter in her ears. "Phil!" she dashed over to the cell the voice had come from, gun drawn just in case. "What is that metal thing? I've got to get you out of here, now."

"What thing?" asked a quiet, strange voice.

Natasha frowned. She unlocked the cell cautiously, peering in and squinting through the darkness.

A familiar face looked back at her, but it most definitely wasn't Phil's.

"You." Her heart leapt in her throat, and she began backing away, relocking the cell and stepping out in front of the bars to get a closer look from a safer distance.

"Heck are you supposed to be?" the voice asked again, roughly.

She took in the scraggly beard, the haunted dark eyes, long hair; tense, muscled build.

He looked different. He was _talking_. Eyes showed more coherency. But he was still the man who shot her charge right through her and left her to die with a hole in her intestines and a dead body underneath her.

That, and screwed her beach days forevermore.

Phil was in the cell too, propped up against a wall. He gazed out at her weakly, his eyes apologetic. The Winter Soldier was holding him down, pinning him to the ground with one arm, not his prosthetic one but his human one.

Something bitter formed at the back of her throat and she gripped the gun more tightly.

Then a sound behind her in the hallway made her whirl around, aiming her gun in that direction, thinking it was Krome.

It was only Rhodes, with Sharon still close at his heels. An angry-looking Melinda May followed them, her face bruised all along one side. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh of relief, re-aiming her gun toward Bucky. "Let him go," she ordered lowly.

He replied with one of annoyance. "You want him to bleed out?"

"What?" she demanded.

"That thing got a chunk out of him. Shocking as it may seem, I'm trying to save his life."

"It's okay, Natasha," Phil said quietly.

"You have over three hundred and fifty-three eliminated targets on your SHIELD file. As many as triple that number are left undocumented," she replied calmly, keeping her gun aimed right where it was, although her resolve shifted slightly.

Bucky's mouth raised humorlessly. "And you have over a thousand, Natasha Romanoff."

"We can compare files later when you're not holding wounded SHIELD agents on the ground."

"Is Steve here?" he surprised her by asking.

"What is it, guys?" Steve's voice answered the question for him.

"Steve, go back to the jet," Natasha's blood picked up speed in her veins.

"Don't," Sam stopped him.

"Steve—"

"Look and see who it is," Sam shoved him gently in the direction of the cell.

Confused by all the different messages from people telling him what to do, Steve decided to listen to Sam and took an inquisitive step forward. His eyes widened.

"Catch you at a bad time?" Bucky smirked.

"Buck?" Steve took a slow, second step. His voice was low when he spoke again. "Do—do you remember me?"

Bucky smiled just a tiny bit. "Your Mom's name was Sara," his voice softened enough that Natasha actually lowered her gun a little. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

Sam looked to Tony, then Natasha, then back at Steve. "This would have been a lot easier a week ago," he sighed tersely.

"You know this man?" May asked Steve sharply. "As Romanoff said, his records indicate he's a merciless killer."

Coulson said nothing.

"I'm not that man anymore," Bucky replied calmly.

"The whole country of Wakanda seems to think you're still a HYDRA weapon," Steve frowned. "Why'd you let them bring you here?"

"Long story," he shrugged.

"Let's hear it," Rhodes replied coldly.

"There's no time," Sharon reasoned. She exchanged a glance with Steve, who nodded. Natasha noticed the exchange.

Wanda must've switched off with Steve when they got back to their jet—or whatever vehicle they came in. Oh—crap. Maybe they'd have to hitch a ride if Tony was still stranded.

"We're NOT taking him with us," she stated immediately.

"I agree. He jeopardizes the whole point of getting SHIELD out of here alive," Rhodey spoke up.

"We don't have a choice," May frowned. "Either he's coming with us, or Coulson isn't. And one of those things is NOT happening."

Bucky smirked at Steve. "Some friends you found there. You can't get along with them any better than you did me, huh?"

"Natasha," Steve said lowly.

Time to shake things up a little.

Instead of answering him, she swung back and knocked Steve in the jaw with her pistol, sending him sprawling to the floor. Sam was on her in a moment, trying to pry the gun out of her hand. It went off with a "BANG!" when it hit the floor and several of them scrambled out of the way.

Natasha swerved around, delivering a kick to the side of Sam's head. Steve blocked her and set in when Rhodey grabbed him by the back of his neck and put him in a choke hold.

May simply stood back and watched the Avengers fight each other with a confused scowl.

"Uh, guys?" Bucky's voice came, but the others couldn't hear him over their scuffle. Steve swung at Rhodey's foot with his shield, Rhodey dragged him to the ground, Steve hit his head on the ground and Rhodey fell forward on top of him only to get kicked in the chin by Sharon. Sharon nearly got her arm broken when Natasha twisted it around, saving herself only when Steve grabbed Rhodey, heaved him up in the air, and threw him head-over-heels at Natasha's face, knocking her to the ground and Sam with her.

"You know, I would help you this time, but I can't because I'm hooked up to a piece of mining equipment," Bucky continued his one-sided conversation. May turned and looked at him, and they exchanged an exasperated glance. In a moment, May had swiped up the keys Natasha had been holding and calmly unlocked the cell.

"Also, I would tell the lady that the reason I'm holding down Coulson is because he's currently going unconscious. Guys?"

The fight merely continued, and May rolled her eyes and fired her pistol twice straight up in the air. "Hope Lance wasn't standing up there," she muttered to herself afterward. "Or maybe that wouldn't be so bad, after all."

"Guys, I think he just went unconscious."

Everything stopped.

Steve got up and spit blood out of his mouth from where he'd been hit in the face. "Romanoff!" he spat. "You want Coulson to die a second time or what?"

Natasha got to her feet and glared as Steve and Sam ran into the cell, Sharon and Rhodey close behind. She holstered her gun from where it had skittered away on the floor.

"Wait," she panted, reaching out at the last second and grabbing Rhodey's arm. He grimaced as he noticed her bruised and bleeding face for the first time. "Do you know who he is?"

"Who, him?"

"He's the Winter Soldier," she said lowly, drawing him in close so only he could hear. "He's older than he looks. He's been working for Hydra for over seventy years. Rhodes," she dropped her voice even more, "The Winter Soldier is the assassin who killed Tony's parents. We can't let him on the jet with the two of them together. Whether he's changed or not, him next to Tony would make it far too easy for him to finish the job."

Rhodey's eyes widened, then grew hard. He visibly swallowed, averting his gaze to the figure in the cell.

Inside the cell, Steve was shouting at Sam, trying to figure out how to get Bucky's arm off the contraption he was stuck in without hurting either him or Coulson. Sharon was busy checking Phil's breathing, trying to get him to wake up or respond. May was trying, irritably, to tell all three of them what to do.

"We need to get the agent guy out of here, first," Rhodey said at last. He turned and met Natasha's gaze. "I'll help you. We'll keep him away from Tony."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey! Guess what? I SAW IT! And it was soooo good, but no spoilers in here, I promise. PM me your favorite moment if you saw it. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers and followers, etc. You guys are awesome. And YES, there is a reference to Mission Impossible in this chapter (;**

 **Chapter 10**

"This is SO COOL!" Hiro Hamada shouted, running around Tony Stark's lab like he'd just entered the biggest candy store in the universe.

"Not bad," Gogo nodded with a grin, surveying the tech and gear surrounding her, burying her hands in her pockets. She popped her gum and propped her feet up on the Wheelie's she'd been given (by Fred) for Christmas.

Beside them, Wasabi's mouth was hanging open as he turned in a slow circle. "I kinda thought it would be more organized, ya know?"

"Who cares?" Hiro grinned, pausing to run his hands all over Dumm-E, who turned and waved to him in response. He waved back, running off to examine the next invention.

"This robot lab is very similar to your own," Baymax noted, in an impressed set of his vocalization patterns.

"Ye-ah, you bet it is! Only way cooler in a lot of ways! LOOK at this," Hiro gestured to his friends, dumping files off the table to display the huge holoprojector Tony used for almost all his work.

"I bet I can break into that," Gogo rushed over, hitting a few keys before the display popped up.

Wasabi yelped, thinking it was another version of his slice-and-dice machine, before realizing his body was still intact as the light waves flowed around him. "Hey," he grinned after a moment, "this looks like a projection of the entire city!"

"That's New York," Gogo smiled, folding her arms over her chest. "Not as beautiful as San Fransokyo, but it sure has a lot of history."

"Are you referring to the recent attack of extraterrestrial beings known as the 'Chitauri'?" Baymax asked politely.

Everyone jumped. "WHAT?!" they all said in unison.

"How did you hear about that?" Hiro looked up at him from the tools he was examining. "You don't watch the news, Baymax."

"I am currently downloading Tony Stark's top secret historical mainframe from his computer," Baymax informed them, a hand on the side of the computer as his chest lit up with a plethora of information.

"Oh—" Hiro's eyes went wide.

"No!" Gogo exclaimed.

"Baymax, don't!"

"Download complete."

Hiro slapped his forehead. "Unbelievable!"

"We are gonna be in so much trouble," Wasabi wrung his hands, stepping out from under the hologram.

"Why does he have top secret historical records of what's happened in New York?" Gogo frowned, surveying what had popped up on the screen. Images of the Chitauri, long metallic worm-like things of massive size tearing giant holes in buildings, flew past the tip of her nose. "Why would anyone want to keep history a secret?"

"I don't know, maybe because it's dangerous?! Those things look terrifying," Wasabi noted, pointing to the screen.

"Hey guys, let's focus," Hiro called from the back of the room. He'd climbed up on a set of stairs (leading to Tony's super sweet car collection) and was viewing the hologram from the top-down. "Mr. Stark wants us to fortify this building and protect Excelsior from the other Avengers."

"So we're gonna Avenger-proof the Tower?" Gogo raised an eyebrow.

"Is—that even possible?" Wasabi deadpanned.

"Everything is possible," Baymax lifted a finger, as though making an important point. "You can accomplish anything if you work hard and believe in yourself."

"Wow. Thank-you, Baymax," Hiro poured as much sarcasm into the words as was physically possible. He started going through the toolbox again.

"Very helpful," Wasabi agreed with a grin. He began exploring the computer interface, looking for ideas in the files Tony had left unlocked on his desktop.

Gogo merely surveyed the room, her sharp eyes taking in the structure and the entry and exit points, the look behind her carefully schooled features forming a plan.

"Maybe we could build a shield generator around the safe that has Excelsior in it, like in Star Wars," Wasabi suggested.

"Or—" Gogo grinned at him, "just make it big enough and put it around the whole Tower. Once the outside is safe from intruders, we can plan other systems to make it impossible even for somebody who breaks through the shield.

"An invisibility cloak!" Hiro shouted. "Look, if we have the shield, that's great, but what if it completely disappeared? Then nobody would even think to try and get in here."

"Like everyone doesn't already know where Stark Tower is," Gogo shook her head. "It's kind of in the middle of New York City."

"No, around the safe," he clarified.

"Oh, come on," Wasabi teased, "I thought we were going to do something hard."

"It doesn't matter how easy or hard it is so long as it protects Excelsior," Hiro reminded him. "When my microbots were stolen after our school's expo, it put the whole city in a lot of danger to get them back. We don't want the same thing to happen to Mr. Stark."

"We didn't go after your microbots because we thought they were destroyed in the fire," Wasabi noted.

"Hey," Gogo grinned, zooming in on the hologram to look at just Stark Tower, "Why don't we just burn the whole building to the ground?"

"Haha," Hiro rolled his eyes.

"No, that's an idea!" Wasabi jumped for the viewscreen. "We could create an invisibility cloak that makes it LOOK like the whole Tower just burned down! That way nobody would ever come here looking for the disk!"

Hiro's brow creased in concentration. He jumped down from the staircase, pushing Gogo aside as he hastily ran schematics, combining some random files he found of virtual flames and burning buildings with the basic blueprint of the Tower.

Gogo edged him back out of the way to sharpen the image and run some 3-D graphics over the whole thing. Then Wasabi hit play, and ran it in real time, throwing their on-screen creation up onto the hologram.

Instantly, the digital light picture of Stark Tower went up in flames before their eyes.

"Whoah," the three whispered in unison.

"Burning down buildings is not part of my healthcare database," Baymax interrupted concernedly.

"Shut up, Baymax, this is awesome," Hiro whispered.

"We're not burning down a building, big guy," Gogo assured him. "We're actually going to save it."

Wasabi was so excited he was almost jumping up and down. "Wait until Mr. Stark sees this!" he exclaimed. "And Dr. Banner! They'll be so excited!"

"Or totally freaked out," Gogo smirked.

They exchanged high-fives, and Hiro let out a whoop of excitement. "Come on, team. Let's start creating the program for the other stages of the fire."

The three inventors skittered around the lab, looking for any codes or programming they could use to aid in their work.

… … … … …

"Do I have to do everything on this mission?" Rhodey yelled, trying to maintain control of the jet he'd only learned to fly in the last five minutes. "Get in here! Where'd Tony get his ass off to?" he yelled to Natasha.

Vision was outside, singlehandedly trying to keep the guards at bay. Out of nowhere, Krome appeared yet again. She gleamed blindingly in the outdoor sunlight. Vision punched at her, receiving a broken hand for his trouble. She rushed forward and he easily glided through her, grimacing from the pain in his hand, then turning and blocking her path to the quinjet with a beam from his infinity stone.

"I think I see them!" Rhodey shouted over the noise. Natasha grabbed a handhold, leaving the cargo bay open for the rest of the group. "They're coming out, and I'm going in—I think. If I can figure out how to fly this thing without crashing it, too."

"Did you steal this from Steve?" Natasha asked incredulously, wincing as a sharp breeze caught the sticky wounds on her side and face.

"No easy task," Rhodey waved a finger before desperately returning to cling to the controls.

"Here, let me help. We can't let them get Bucky on board."

The many SHIELD agents who had escaped came sprinting across the prison yard, covered by Vision, who was still fighting Krome and the many guards to tried to arrest their progress. Wanda joined him, and together they were able to just barely hold everyone off.

"Get on, get on!" Natasha shouted to the agents, and they all leaped up into the cargo bay, cramming tightly in every corner of the ship. They were well over capacity, and they still had at least five more Avengers who would attempt to get on board.

"Vision!" Steve roared, exiting the building. He tossed his shield in the direction of the two fighters, just as Vision ducked out of the way and the shield lodged itself in Krome's side. She growled in rage, yanking it back out again. It left a five-inch dent in her side large enough to be noticeable even from a distance.

Wanda scooped it up as she ran toward the jet, leaping on board.

Vision flew upward. Steve was holding Phil, extending his body up toward where the SHIELD agents were hovering, waiting to grab him. Once Phil was securely on board, Tony flew up. Sam gave Steve a helping arm, and the two reached behind them and grabbed Bucky on either arm.

"No!" Rhodey shouted, leaping from the cockpit. Natasha eased smoothly into the pilot's seat. "Don't let him on board!"

Tony took his warning and whirled around, stomping on Bucky's metal hand where it gripped the edge of the cargo hatch. Bucky grabbed the heel of his suit and pulled him down, but Tony activated his jet halfway down, forcing Bucky to let go.

"Are you nuts?" Steve barked at Tony, panting as he held his grip on both Sam and Bucky together. Bucky glared uncertainly at Tony as the four men all clambered on to the ship.

"I don't know, are _you_?" Tony sassed in reply. "Look, the guy's not exactly gonna help me protect Excelsior, is he?"

"Oh and is that a good reason to dump people off of airplanes?" Because they're not very useful to you?" Steve sassed back.

"That man is a criminal and a murderer!" Rhodey approached them, his eyes fixed directly on Bucky.

"Will you all just get IN and SHUT THE HATCH so we can get out of here?" Wanda yelled at them, forcing them all to turn and stare at her. She was shaking in rage. "It's our jet. Stark can stay if he wants. That doesn't mean he gets to kick people off of it, am I right?" her voice wavered.

Steve and Tony exchanged a reluctant glance, then pulled everyone inside and closed either side of the hatch.

Sharon slipped in beside Natasha to help fly, and the two exchanged a similar look that Tony and Steve had before returning to business.

Wanda handed Steve his shield, turning to look at Vision's hand as she did so. Rhodey coolly observed Bucky, with his armor ready to fire if need be.

Steve was too distracted to notice the dent that folded along the edge of the shield, the first time its unmalleable surface had ever been marred.

"Drop us off," he said quietly, once they had all settled and Phil had been bandaged as well as possible by his teammates.

"Where?" Natasha asked quietly, then repeated herself louder. It was hard to hear with three dozen bodies crammed together in the small space.

"Drop us off as soon as possible, it doesn't matter where. Get SHIELD out of here." He eyed Tony knowingly. "We've got a score to settle."

"There's an old SHIELD base in Italy," Natasha suggested. "We still have contacts there who can cover for us, medical-wise. And there's a handy little ghost town just nearby."

"Good," Tony nodded with a pointed look in Steve's direction. "We won't be hurting anybody."

… … … … …

"Children," Maria Hill muttered to herself, poised around the corner from the lab where the young scientists were working with Bruce. She snuck a glance, smiling confusedly at their weird little plan to 'burn' down Stark Tower. "Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen."

The shield generator they were building, however, caught her attention right away. She watched as Banner pulled out a heavy safe, hooked up the generator with help from the dreadlock-haired kid, and turned it on. It first glowed in a greenish brightness, then faded away to invisibility. The four of them and the robot congratulated one another, then Banner secured the safe with his own retinal scan.

Maria smirked. He thought that would be safe. Bruce was such an amateur.

As soon as he and one of the three kids left the lab, she pulled open a valise and rifled through the contents, pulling out a copy of Bruce's retinal scans within seconds.

The scientists hadn't even had time to refine the scanner. It was open to anyone. She strode quickly into the room, flashing the boy and girl who remained in the room, a quick smile, pretending to notice things around the room and check them off a list on her clipboard.

They merely looked up from their computer—or rather Tony's—briefly and back down upon figuring she was just doing her job. Only Banner know that she literally never came into the lab—or at least, she wasn't supposed to.

She slipped a tiny dart onto her finger, brushing it against the robot as she walked past.

Suddenly Baymax began to deflate, rather quickly. "Oh, dear," he said in his robotic tone as the 'hiss!' of air escaped from his outer covering.

"Awww, Baymax!" the boy groaned, jumping up from his chair. "D'ya know where there's any tape, Ma'am?" he asked Maria.

She raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Oh, I believe there's some in the hallway downstairs. Tony has a bad habit of not keeping his office supplies in-stock."

"Dangit," Hiro sighed. "I'll probably never find it on my own. Come with me, G?"

"Sure," the girl finally snapped her attention away from the screen. "Baymax, stay and keep an eye on the disk, will you?"

Maria inwardly groaned. She was going to be babysat by a robot.

"The disk is no longer visible," Baymax pointed out. "It is hidden behind the walls of the safe."

"On the safe. Keep an eye on the safe," Hiro corrected, sprinting out of the room. The girl followed, leaving Maria alone with it.

Well, almost alone.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "So, you do everything he tells you?" she asked the pluffy robot, who was currently looking like a mildly deflated balloon.

"I am programmed to obey the voice of humans, particularly that of my creator, Tadashi," Baymax explained. "Since Tadashi is no longer living, his brother Hiro is my primary owner and supervisor."

"I don't suppose you have a mechanism that allows you to bypass those orders?" she fished, waving her hand casually.

"I am not permitted to—"

"Aha," she smirked, expertly pinpointing the button on his chest that contained the storage cards. She tapped it with a finger and the green card flashed, a smiley cartoon image of a doctor and a piece of sharpie-covered tape with the elder Hamada's name on it.

She quickly swiped the disk out and the robot shut down immediately. That completed, Maria strode efficiently over to the safe, flashed her copy of Bruce's retinal scan, and moved to pick the lock. She had just felt a slight 'click!' when a hand clamped around her mouth, another around her neck, and she was wrenched to the floor.

"What're you doing?" Clint's blue eyes met her own, menacingly. "'Cause I'm pretty disabling the disk was MY mission."

Maria kneed him in the gut, kicking again at his knees and then toward his face. He dodged them all but the last one, falling flat on his back and wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.

"Maria?" he asked quietly, easing himself up from the ground. "Unless you want ME to be the interrogator, you're gonna tell me what you intended to do to that disk." A knife flashed just under his arm, the glint of one he'd probably stole from the kitchen.

"Do I even want to know what you did to that closet door?" she deadpanned, looking for a way out.

Clint's frown deepened. Maria glanced at the knife again, knowing the casual way he handled it was no indicator he wasn't ready to throw at a moment's notice—it was a signal of just how deadly his aim was.

"I'm going to stand here until Bruce comes back up here and sees you trying to steal his precious disk, and break into his safe," she shrugged.

"Yeah," Hawkeye nodded. "With a retinal scan in your purse, with your fingerprints on it."

"You underestimate me if you think I can't handle that part," she narrowed her eyes. "By all means, try to break into it yourself."

Clint shot her a look, but went over to the safe. He was slightly uneven on his feet, an indicator that he was still feeling that concussion from the EMP, pretty bad. He picked up the retinal scan and held it up to the box, disabling it before picking it up and almost casually walking out of the room.

Maria smirked. Unfortunately, she knew there was only one way left to handle this.

She slipped away.

… … … … …

Well, that was about as little fight as I'd ever seen Maria put up.

I knew something fishy was going on, and I discovered what a whole lot faster than I'd have liked.

I rounded the corner with the safe under my arm, knife held ready to pretty much impale anyone who came after me. I saw her approach me from behind, turned, and flung the knife in her direction.

It bounced off with a 'clang!', falling to the floor. My eyes widened as I looked at the blade; the steel was completely crushed. It wasn't Maria who stood there in front of me. It was another superhero in a suit.

Wonderful.

"I honestly didn't want to kill you until you did that," Maria's voice came from the sleek metal suit.

I wrinkled my eyebrows. "You too? What is it with guys and metal armor?"

She punched straight at me, and I blocked it like I'd been trained to do all my life. Two hands on, shove to the side, straight up for a follow-up—

Except the moment I touched her armor, the flesh on my hands practically turned into mashed potatoes. I stared, wondering how she did it and her arm went up and over mine, straight into my gut. I went to the floor before I could do anything to stop her or run, which was probably the best option at that point.

"Killing me, huh?" I choked. "Awfully cliché. You know that, right?"

Her arm raised and I attempted to scramble back, only to run the back of my head straight into a wall. I blinked and saw nothing but stars for a few seconds.

She was going to kill me, for real.

Then I heard a crash.

Blinking fast, my vision came back just in time to see the giant hole carved in the floor give way and Maria fall feet-first down the next story. A familiar hand grabbed mine and a voice shouted in my ear, "RUN!"

… … … … …

I am the worst getaway victim ever.

"Don't sweat it, Hawkguy. I don't think she's following us," Kate Bishop, aka the other Hawkeye who is not the first Hawkeye (because I am) but will tell you that she's the first anyway because she's a little snothead, told me casually, scrolling through her phone while I puked out the side of the car.

After a ridiculously long round of coughing, choking, and nearly burning my throat out with acid, I finally felt safe enough to settle back in my seat and shut the door. Kate glanced over at me, trying to block my eyes from the too-bright noonday sun, and gunned the gas as we swung out onto the highway.

My head lurched, my stomach lurched, and I began to wonder if I was really done after all.

I HATE concussions. Massively forceful punches to the gut aren't much better.

"Didn't complete my mission," I mumbled to her, knowing she was waiting for some explanation. "I've got to go back in there, somehow."

"Forget the mission," Kate replied flatly, not slowing her speed.

"Why?" I forced my eyes open.

"Because it's impossible in your condition. Duh."

"You know that every time you say something's 'impossible', I think of Ethan Hunt, right?" I smirked slightly.

"You said yourself that guy was so insane he turned you into a bookslapper."

"Not permanently. I like to think he mentored me."

"I don't care. You shouldn't go back in there," she replied, in stubborn, Kate-ish fashion.

"Who's the bookslapper now?" I cracked a grin, before regretting it when it made my head pound harder.

"Clint, we're going to a hospital," she replied, in that no-nonsense tone I usually didn't want to argue with. "Not for your head, for your hands. You can't shoot a bow like that," she indicated my brown-and-purple bruised hands and forearms.

I grimaced as I looked down. Okay, maybe she was right. Dangit, she always managed to point out the things she KNEW I was sensitive about. The wheedling little nine-year-old brat. "And then, we're going back," I replied, trying to inject some finality in my voice. As tired as I was, it didn't really work.

"Also," she continued slowly, tightening her grip on the wheel, "Phil nearly died in Wakanda."

I leapt up in my seat, wincing as a piercing whine rang through my head and I desperately fumbled with my hearing aids to turn them down.

"Take it easy, take it easy," Kate warned, reaching across the seat with her free hand to steady me as I was forced to drop my head in my hands and just breathe for a few seconds. She wrinkled her forehead in sudden concern. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Shut up, just tell'm about Coulson," I slurred, sucking in a breath as another wave of pain crashed through my whole body.

"He's okay," there was a slight tremble in her voice. "He got attacked by a creature—probably that same one who got you—the only way I could take her down with her powers was with a laser arrow. I cut a hole in the floor."

"I saw," I replied irritably.

"Really? Wow," she replied with angry sarcasm. "Like you're not the one who gave me those arrows in the first place." I winced at her volume and she lowered her voice slightly. "No, he's okay. I just wish the other Avengers could've been there sooner. He lost over half his blood volume. It was all replaced in the time it took me to go in after you."

"You were watching me?" I asked, confused.

She gave me a 'well, duh,' expression and threw on her blinker for the next exit. "How else do you think I showed up at the exact awesomest moment to save your ass? Oh, did I mention I got your bow?"

My eyes lit up in spite of the pain I was in and I glanced over into the back seat.

There she was, sitting practically unscathed on top of my quiver, still as full as it had been when I first invaded the Tower. Finally, some good news.

"Thanks, Hawkeye."

"Any time, Hawkguy."

We drove in silence for a while.

Finally, I remembered to ask.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"A hospital."

"Oh."

We passed at least five more hospitals before I asked again.

"Are you sure we're going to a hospital?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

I settled back against the seat.

"Anything you're not telling me?"

"Also, yes."

I reached across and grabbed the steering wheel. Kate started up. I'd gotten her attention.

"O-kay! Rule number 1, hands off, this is my Bug and she's custom made, since I'm assuming you forgot. Rule number 2—" she caught sight of my glare and her voice trailed off. "Okay, fine. I'll explain."

"You'll pull over first," I nodded to her, relinquishing the steering wheel reluctantly.

"THAT is not going to happen," she met my gaze with an equally stubborn one. "Clint, trust me."

"I've been trusting you since we left Avengers Tower three hours ago!"

"Well, how many hours am I worth?" she mocked, offended.

"Oh, shove over and just tell me what's going on," I demanded angrily.

"Clint," she seethed, yanking the steering wheel over and slamming on the brakes as we went skidding into the grass, "Phil nearly died, the whole team of Avengers is turning against one another, Nat's on the other side we don't want to be on, there's a disk that's about to take over the world, and half of SHIELD just got captured by this crazy metal monster."

"Maria Hill!" I barked out, ignoring the sharp spike of pain through my forehead.

She stopped. "What?" she stuttered angrily.

"It's Maria Hill. The metal person—thing. She meant to kill me so I wouldn't tell anyone. I have no idea what she's up to but she was trying to steal the disk for herself. I don't know what that means, except that we should probably stop her before it's too late, don't you think maybe that's a good idea?" I finished, sarcasm lacing my voice.

Kate just stared, slack-jawed, over her black-rimmed sunglasses. "You couldn't have mentioned this two hours sooner?" she finally hissed in annoyance, yanking the wheel back around. We jolted around on the grass, swinging back onto the highway with a heavy 'bump!' as Kate ran right over the median without even hesitating.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I nearly shouted at her.

"Clint, shut up!" she yelled back, revving the engine until we reached at least 20 over, headed straight back the way we'd come.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry I didn't make it to two chapters last week! This week will hopefully make up for it, kicked off with this chapter. Please enjoy and tell me what you think in a REVIEW! :D**

 **~Marina**

 **Chapter 11**

Sharon landed the quinjet on the dusty soil of the abandoned ghost town of Poggioreale, in Naples. She'd been here one other time. SHIELD had a small weapons supply stored here. Better yet, there was a possibility that Natasha hadn't heard of EVERYTHING that was stored here.

Western Europe had never been a thing for Agent Romanoff. She preferred locations where she could show off her destructive capabilities more, without being condemned for demolishing ancient historical landmarks on accident.

Tony and Steve barreled out first, followed closely by Bucky, Rhodes, Wanda, Natasha, and Vision. Sharon killed the power and followed, pulling out her gun and hoping it would be enough without coming to severe blows. The SHIELD agents, along with Coulson, who they'd been reassured would be just fine, had been dropped off within one of the major Sicily compounds. They would be fine. They were resourceful.

She on the other hand, was in the middle of a fight between two factions of AVENGERS. A human, with a tiny little pistol. And a boyfriend who wore paper-thin armor.

This could be a disaster.

Steve faced Tony once the two groups of Avengers were facing each other in the middle of the ghost town. If it had been in America, it would've looked like a western shootout. Instead they were like the troops of Alexander the Great lined up on either side of a ridge in an ancient battle. "Just kill Excelsior," Steve's voice was low and even, "and all of this will be over. None of you have to do this."

Tony stood up straight, helmet visor up so Steve could see his face. "I am offended," he began, "that you just came right out and assumed that I was trying to destroy the world. I know I made a mistake with Ultron. I thought we could move past that without you dragging it up in my face whenever I come up with a new idea. At its core, Ultron was a foolproof plan. None of us could have predicted what happened. You said that to me, after the fact."

"It's not a new idea, it's the same one, rehashed," Steve protested.

"I'm not a killer!" Tony stood up straighter. "If you're going to stand there and call me a killer than I'm going home. He's the killer," he pointed toward Bucky. Steve's eyes glinted. "If you can trust him, then why can't you trust me?"

"You trust Agent Romanoff well enough," Bucky pointed out quietly.

"I can't sit around when something I know is wrong is happening and I'm the only one who can stop it. You make fun of me for standing up for what I think if right. Ever consider that it's sometimes harder to do that than it is to give up and go home? It is," Steve shrugged.

Tony frowned darkly.

"I don't want to destroy your tech," Steve continued honestly. "It's important to you, and I get that. Not when it's about to destroy people's freedoms all across the globe. And for the record," he paused, setting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Bucky is my friend."

Tony's brow creased as he stared at Steve in utter disbelief. "So was I."

Steve frowned. "Tell us where Excelsior is, or we will find it and destroy it by any means necessary."

"I thought you already sent someone to do that," Tony jutted out his chin a little.

Steve's eyes flashed. "Tell me where it is, or we will burn Stark Tower to the ground if we have to!"

Tony glared, rage causing him to shake slightly. He glanced at the ground, licked his lips, and finally spoke. "You're gonna have to get Agent Barton out first."

Steve was the first to throw a blow. He hurtled his shield at Tony's head, causing him to stagger back, bleeding from the nose as he quickly shut his face mask and fired a repulsor toward Steve's midsection.

Natasha immediately lashed out at Sharon, taking her down with a swift kick to the head followed by wrapping a leg around her neck, attempting to break it. Vision and Wanda carefully avoided each other, taking Sam and Rhodes respectively, quickly overpowering both of them and being forced to turn on each other anyway, within moments dodging each other's blasts and blocking them with just as much explosive power.

The battle was on.

… … … … …

Steve woke up and it was dark outside. Slowly he sat up, looking around for whoever was nearby.

Bucky was on his left.

Steve was on Sam's left, which would've amused the Falcon had he been awake.

"Where's Sharon?"

"Over there," Bucky motioned to the corner. They were under a rocky overhang only a few yards away from where they'd just duked it out with Stark.

It hadn't taken more than an hour or two before Tony had called a retreat and the battered members of his side of the skirmish had stolen Steve's jet, taken off for New York, and left their former friends behind.

At least they had won, though Steve didn't know if that was really an advantage or not. Now Stark was just going to collect more resources and return to his business activating Excelsior.

"Wanda?" he called, eyes darting around the rocks.

"Over here," the girl replied sleepily. She was getting to her feet.

Steve sat up and leaned over, elbows hunched over the tops of his knees. "Stark's going to be fortifying the Tower," he guessed. "He's gonna have that thing locked down so tight not even the whole team could break in there."

"No calls from Clint, either," Sam informed him grimly.

"That's what I was afraid of. Until we know if he's in the building we can't risk setting any kind of explosives off."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You were just friends with them two days ago, and we're already talking about explosives?"

Steve couldn't suppress a smile as he turned to his friend. "You know," he admitted, "I really missed you, buddy."

"You have no idea," Bucky folded his arms across his chest. "You've been asleep and I've been kicking ass. Time goes a heck of a lot slower my way." A tiny grin appeared on his lips.

"Sounds fun. Sorry I missed it," Steve grinned back.

"Don't worry; eighties fashion was a deal breaker. Now," Bucky sighed, leaning back against a really uncomfortable-looking rock, "why don't you explain to me how we're going to get Stark's death machine out of his office before we end up with Hitler Stark Jr.?"

"I did NOT compare him to Hitler yet," Steve protested. "He's still sort of my friend, Buck."

"Yeah, I seem to recall you said that about Howard, too," Bucky rolled his eyes.

Sam just sat up and watched the exchanges with a kind of mild amusement.

"You were thinking it at least."

"I was not!"

"Sorry to interrupt the little reunion here, but is there any food lying around in these old abandoned SHIELD bases, because I'm starving," Sam interrupted.

"It's only one building," Wanda shrugged. "How hard could it be to investigate?"

"You've got a lot to learn, kid," Sharon sighed, groaning slightly as she painfully seated herself across from everyone else. "Stark is the smartest guy around, and that means whether you've seen it or not, the Tower is one of the most heavily-fortified structures on the globe. He's got technology that isn't on any blueprints, no way to find out about it until you get zapped and drop dead." She patted her side, feeling for something, but didn't find it. She grinned slightly.

"Phone's gone?" Steve asked.

"Fortunately," she smiled. "Means I have an excuse not to report this to the CIA. I'm sure Tony will have a ball with my e-mails, though, if he's the one that took it."

"A lot of his technology, he made from scratch," Steve continued, turning to Wanda. "And if he's back there now, the more time we give him the worse off we'll be."

"We're gonna need help," Sam shouldered his gear, frowning. "We're a small group to pull off a heist."

"Small groups are usually better for heists, but I don't know about it in this case," Sharon pulled a sideways smile. "I'm trained in logistics and field work, and Bucky, I'm assuming you know your way around someone else's home, but we need someone more specialized if this is going to work. With Agent Barton unaccounted for, and no idea where the disk is located, we're climbing uphill here."

"I never should have sent him in there alone," Steve shook his head. "We could have predicted this would happen. I just hope Natasha is keeping an eye on him, so there's enough of him left to rescue. We all know what happened last time," he added grimly.

"We can't go to SHIELD," Bucky rubbed his chin, glancing around at the rest of them. "We all saw. Half of them are only kids." He was thinking, specifically, of Agent Johnson, but also of her injured boyfriend and the two young scientists that had been with them. "The rest would take sides, just like us. That would only make the battle worse."

"You're right. We can't bring kids into this," Steve agreed.

"Or SHIELD," Sharon added in agreement.

"Well, then, who do we have?" Wanda asked, her brow furrowed. She was used to Cap always knowing what to do. Now, it seemed like he was almost at a loss.

Sam sighed loudly, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Well," he winced, looking hesitant but like he had something he really, really needed to say, "Are we actually looking for outside help, then? Just so I've got that clear?"

"Yes," Sharon replied affirmatively.

Steve nodded.

Wanda and Bucky just looked at him with curiosity.

Sam sighed again, his shoulders going up with his chest. "I know a guy."

… … … … …

"The ultimate battle of wills," Scott Lang narrated, using his deepest, most dramatic voice. He held his glass ready, the several tiny sugar ants they'd brought in from the garden earlier coating the bottom. "The clash of two—relatively ancient—species against two other—almost as ancient—species."

"The male versus the female?" Hope Van Dyne groaned, rolling her eyes across the table at him. "Really?" She held her own glass ready.

"The blue-ringed Amazon warrior destructo-ant versus the African tribal acid-spitting menace ant. Who will win? The suspense is killing me," he leaned back on his wooden chair, tilting the legs dangerously toward the floor and stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.

"You almost make this sound exciting," Hope met his eyes with a slight grin.

"You wanna argue this isn't exciting? You were stealing ants from my pile earlier."

"It's not a pile, it's a colony," Hope replied matter-of-factly.

"'It's not a pile, Scott, it's a colony'," he replied, mocking her tone.

"I was quoting my dad!"

"I was making fun of your dad, then."

Hope reached across the table to punch him in the arm. Scott pretended to shy away from the strike and then stuck his lip out, sniffling as he held his shoulder with mock tenderness.

She glared at him and he laughed.

"This is what happens when adults get too old to act like adults anymore," Hope sighed, running her fingers through her raven-black hair.

"AND when your dad is away on 'business'," Scott grinned, making quotations with his fingers. "Do you think our conversation would be more or less entertaining if we tried to talk and play at the same time?"

"Probably," Hope agreed, "well, at least on my end. Your tiny brain can't handle the depth of my wit."

"I," he raised an eyebrow, attaching his headset, "shall prove you wrong."

"No, you _shan't_ ," she settled her own, smirking at him.

Scott narrowed his eyes, focusing on the small dish of ants. Hope did the same to hers. The game was simple—honestly, they needed to come up with something a little more complicated for the future. The glass was slippery and the ants couldn't cling to the edges, so they had to get their ants to build a structure that would get them up and out of the cup and onto the table the fastest.

Scott zeroed his focus on them, picturing his ants building a sort of ladder out of the grass and twigs they'd brought in along with the rest of the dirt and bugs and stuff. He had them twine the grasses around each other, building something far more tiny and intricate than his own fingers could have ever managed. Finally, he got them halfway to the rim of the cup, and sent all the ants down at once to pick up more supplies.

He risked a glance up at Hope, momentarily breaking focus. She was already lining her ants up outside the rim, waiting to descend on the other side. He started, quickly going back to what he was doing, only to find that HIS ants had decided to fall over each other while he wasn't paying attention and were scrambling around in the dirt. Scott groaned loudly.

Suddenly, Hope's phone rang. She sighed, dropping her attention to pick up the phone. "Time out," she told Scott, who reluctantly sat back and began pulling funny faces at her to make her laugh while Hank was on the other end. "Hi, Dad. You interrupted me. I was about to beat Scott." She hit the speakerphone.

"Oh, really!" Hank replied amusedly. "I'm not surprised. By all means, continue."

Hope dropped the phone and went right back into what she was doing.

"What?!" Scott protested, scrambling for his headset again. Then he had an idea.

Hope's ants carefully grabbed the primitive rope they'd created and inched it over the edge, setting it in place in just enough time for them to line up military-style and climb their way down. A sudden, loud "BUMP!" made her start, dropping her focus. Her earpiece fell out and her ants scattered. She bit back a curse.

Suffice it to say, Scott's 'ants' were no longer ants, but giant black-bodied insects waddling all over the table and spilling onto the floor.

Over the other side of the table, as three of them accosted his face with their feelers at once, the man was giving her an ear-splitting grin.

Hope's mouth opened wide. For a second, she literally did not know what to say. "THAT is cheating," she managed after a second. "Using the growth disk. Or whatever we decided to call it."

"It worked," Scott tried hard to suppress a laugh.

Hope gave him a scornful look as she picked up the phone again.

"I was just contacted by the Avengers," Hank Pym's voice came over the speaker, leaving the sentence open-ended.

"Nice job," Hope glared at Scott.

He acted offended. "Whatever it was, it wasn't my fault!"

"You KNOW why they're contacting us, and it IS your fault!" she hissed. Both of them cringed at the thought that the training center incident was coming back to bite them. After all, if Stark was involved…

"They wanna talk to you. I'm going to transfer their call to Hope's phone," Hank continued, amusement in his voice. "I sure hope you own that game fair and square, Scott, since I just put Captain America on hold for it."

Scott's jaw fairly dropped out of its socket. "Captai—wha—you gotta be kidding, give it here!"

"Leave it on speaker," Hope frowned, shoving it toward him. "I want to hear this." A corner of her mouth curled upward.

Scott gulped. He suppressed a gasp as one of the now-giant ants decided to drop on his head unexpectedly from behind, and shook it off as quietly as he could. "This is Scott Lang," he said in the most confident-but-not-like-an-arrogant-jerk voice he could muster. "Uh—what can I do for Earth's Mightiest Heroes?"

… … … … …

"Tony?" Pepper exclaimed, rushing downstairs as the Avengers entered the Tower. "Oh, thank God. Did you stop them?"

Tony's visor was up, but he still walked around in his suit. Tiredly, he waved her off, striding toward the lab. "I've got about five thousand things to do, Pepper. I've got to fortify this building or relocate it somewhere that's not around you."

"Relocate—the building?" Pepper struggled to follow.

"You're all in danger now," Tony continued morosely. "Happy Birthday. That was last month, wasn't it—never mind. Can you get me a Sprite?" he disappeared through the door as Pepper stared after him angrily, hands on her hips.

"Sorry," Natasha apologized. "He's in one of those moods and I didn't exactly help to minimize it."

Pepper's hand went to her mouth as she looked the bruised and bleeding young assassin over, head to toe. "Oh, my gosh, Natasha, what happened to you?" she gasped. The bruise on her face was an oozing, dark purple by now, the blood on the surface having dried but not been bandaged yet.

Natasha shrugged, irritation in her posture more than pain. "Had a run-in with some new freak in Africa."

"Africa? That's why you were gone so long," Pepper put her hands on her hips.

Rhodes came soldiering up, tiredly. "We didn't exactly capture the other Avengers, but we did partially team up with them and rescue SHIELD from certain doom, followed by a huge fall-out in Italy and Tony ordering us all to run for our lives back to the Tower," he explained.

Pepper stared.

Rhodey just shrugged. "Like it must sound, it's a pretty long story."

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "I guess it is."

"Look, I'm gonna go get cleaned up, and then see if Tony needs any help in the lab," Rhodes nodded to Natasha. "And I think you probably should too. The first part, I mean. That bruise looks awful."

"Probably," Natasha groaned, rubbing her good eye.

"Can I get anything for it? Some ice, maybe?" Pepper asked, looking her over worriedly.

"How about a wash, a foot rub, and two gallons of ice cream?" Nat met her gaze with a mischievous spark in her eyes. "Although, I'm sure you could probably use that, too."

"When we're not in danger for our lives, we should make time for that," Pepper smiled a little. Then her brow creased a little. "When did you get so casual? Even when you were working for me undercover you would never walk around in my in my old bathrobes and talk about ice cream."

Natasha smirked. "That's what normal women do, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Talk about casual things?"

Pepper snorted, keeping her tone light. "I don't believe there is such a thing as a 'normal' woman," she answered, pretending to sort files in her hands. "And if there is, you or I definitely don't meet the qualifications. Do you need ice or anything I can get for you?"

Natasha shook her head. "I'll get everything I need. How's Clint?"

"He's escaped," Maria said crisply, striding into the room. The other two turned to look at her, Pepper glaring and Natasha simply regarding her coolly. "Dropped out of nowhere, tried to steal the disk, and just managed to get away leaving it behind."

Natasha leaned her head against a wall and muttered some unintelligible words in Russian under her breath.

"He can't have gone far, though," Maria added in a dry tone. "That concussion had him practically tripping over his own feet. I could have stopped him by hurting him, but since he didn't take anything I figured that would be a waste."

"Sure would," an unfamiliar voice captured all three women's attention instantly.

They all whirled around in the direction of the elevator, where Kate Bishop, dressed in black cargo pants and a purple tank top, sunglasses settled across her determined nose, held three arrows ready to fire at any moment at each of them.

Natasha's jaw dropped open, which never happened. "Kate?!"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: A big, long chapter to say thank you for waiting! Finals are done and this also gets us past the dreaded middle of the story that's so hard to write. Should be smooth sailing from here on out…**

 **This chapter is for Joyfulelf because it has lots of Bucky and Steve (:**

 **Let me know what y'all think in a review! Or lots of reviews-that would be cool, right?**

 **Chapter 12**

It was raining in Italy.

Five bodies (two of them superhumanly enlarged) crammed into one rusting phone booth, wind whipping around the street.

Steve, Bucky, Sam, Sharon, and Wanda all waited for a response on the other end of the line.

A feeling of dread was in the air.

"I don't think he's gonna do it," Sharon half-whispered, half-groaned. She shifted her knee out of Bucky's way as he crouched on top of her, Wanda hovering in the doorway, all of them shivering from the rain and the door that wouldn't quite close.

A voice finally, finally came over through the receiver, crackly and loud enough for all of them to hear. "Seems you got two of us for the price of one," Scott Lang stated, a smile in his voice.

Slowly, the faces of all five of them broke into grins, and Sam let out a whoop. "You sure you're in this, both of you?"

"That's right," the woman's voice, Hope Van Dyne, came too. "Ant-Man and the Wasp, at your service."

"Where do we meet you at?" Scott continued.

"How about Queens, twelve-and-a-half hours from now?" Steve asked, a smile on his face.

There was a slight hesitation on the line. "Is that—is that Captain America?" Scott asked incredulously, making Bucky pinch his nose to hold back a snort.

"Yeah, bug-face," Sam called smugly, from where he was practically flattened against the floor of the booth. "That's Captain Freaking America's voice you're hearing. What do you have to say to that?"

"Ahh," Scott almost sounded giddy.

"We'll be there," Hope's voice replied, more personably. "We can get a flight that lands at eleven. Will you have someone there to meet us? Scott might get lost," she added in a teasing tone.

"I will _not_."

"I'll meet you there," Sam's lips quirked. "Try not to get trapped in some old lady's purse."

"Hey, that's a good plan. Why didn't I think of that? We could get a free flight."

"Scott, my suit has wings," Hope groaned.

"Even better. See, three heads are better than one."

"Especially if that one is yours, eh?"

"Alright, just get there already," Steve picked up, slightly tense.

"Yes, Sir!" Scott replied immediately. The line quieted slightly as Steve began to hang up the phone. The last thing they heard was Scott talking more quietly to hope, "He's _so_ awesome…"

… … … … …

Tony couldn't do much more than stare speechlessly at the scale-to-life hologram of Stark Tower burning to the ground that met him as soon as he entered the lab. The four members of the robotics club froze and turned to look at him.

"We can explain," Wasabi spoke up quickly.

"Okay," Tony's voice came out a little strained.

The group quickly rattled out to Tony about the plan they'd come up with, finally managing to convince him that it was only meant to be an illusion, and there really was no chance of the tower actually burning down.

Tony normally wouldn't have been so concerned, except that his last home on Malibu Point had actually burned down, and Steve's last threat to do the same to the Tower, literally. It was giving him some unwelcome mental images, to say the least.

When they'd finally explained everything, even he had to admit that it was genius.

"We can almost just stage an evacuation of the whole Tower," he muttered under his breath, pushing through them to mess with the settings they'd arranged on his desktop computers. "They won't even know we're here."

Quickly he typed in a new set of code, hit the enter button, and the five of them watched as the whole 3-D rendition was overlaid by another layer of real image. "Friday? Have Pepper order some heat jets. I'm sending over the specifications," he told the A.I. without even turning around. "You kids are really something," he added in amazement, spinning around in his chair. "Would you be willing to help me with something else?"

"We've got to get back to San Fransokyo at some point," Hiro shrugged, "but sure, why not?"

"Bring it on," Gogo popped another bubble gum bubble, licking it back up again. Only she could blow bubble gum and make it actually look cool.

"Give us something hard for a change," Wasabi leaned on the desk, grinning warmly.

Tony got up shakily, stretching out as the suit dismantled off of him. "Alright," he announced to the group. "Here's the deal." His eyes glazed over for a second, as if he'd forgotten something. "I need Bruce," he announced, although he was really just talking to himself. "Friday, call Hulk, _por favor_. I heard about your microbot technology on the news," he turned suddenly on the group, snapping out of his ramble as he turned to Hiro. "It's pretty cool stuff. Managed to protect that teleportation portal pretty well."

Hiro sighed, stepping forward. "It managed to do a lot of things," he shrugged. "Professor Callahan used it to save himself from a—from a real fire. Then he tried to use it to get revenge on Kraye Technologies by moving the teleportation portal over the building and trying to suck it all up inside. My microbots can do anything, but so far, they've done a lot of things they weren't supposed to do."

"How hard would it be to recreate them?" Tony asked, leaning against his desk.

Hiro shrugged and grinned. "With all of us here, in a lab like this one—I'd say maybe half a day."

Gogo and Wasabi stood by in silence, exchanging a glance.

Neither of them were sure if Tony Stark, asking for microbot technology, was such a good idea.

Tony scoffed. "Half a day? Is that even possible?"

"Yeah," Hiro grinned again, proudly. "The first time when we designed and prototyped them it took only a few weeks. This time around should be a piece of cake."

"I don't believe you," Tony challenged, frowning.

"I can show you!"

Gogo grabbed him by the arm before he could run off and interrupted. "I think what he's trying to say is, 'what exactly do you want them for'?" She faced Tony squarely, blowing another bubble nearly as big as her face.

Tony roused himself and shrugged. "Dunno. Not sure yet. Let me think about it. In the meantime," he pointed to their 3-D model, "This is fantastic. I would have never thought of it. Wait 'till Bruce gets down here and we'll come up with a way to make it fully functional. We're gonna stage a huge arson case, right here in the middle of New York. And no one will ever know we're still right here."

He grabbed the computer monitor for a moment and opened up a customized program, selecting a few robot-shaped images and typing in several lines of instructions.

"What's—that?" Wasabi asked cautiously.

"Just sending out a few security guards to watch out for us until we're finished," Tony replied casually.

"There are already fifty-two security guards of both the human and robot variety scanning the perimeter," Baymax stated.

Tony noticed the robot for the first time. "Uh, well, call me excessive, then," he deadpanned, turning back to his work.

The three students exchanged glances behind his back.

… … … … …

"Hey, kiddo," Kate said softly to Natasha, keeping her three arrows trained right where she had them. "I'm so sorry."

She loosed them all at once. Natasha flung herself to the side, Pepper stood and screamed as the arrow flew right past her cheek, and Maria hit the ground but not before the third arrow lodged directly in her heart.

"Kate, what are you doing?" Natasha panted from the ground, tensed and ready to spring up. Her fingers curled around an object on her belt.

Kate's eyes darted to hers and she slowly pulled her sunglasses down.

"Wh—who are you?" Pepper exclaimed, horrified as she sank into a nearby chair. She looked down at Maria. Blood was pooling from her already dead body.

Kate merely winced and stepped forward, rolling Maria over. Sure enough, she was gone. Turning to the other two, she shrugged wearily and gave them a grim expression. "She killed Phil," was all she answered, before turning and striding out of the room.

"Wait."

Kate turned.

Natasha was on her feet, running after her. "Are you lying?"

"I don't know. Am I?" Kate replied ambiguously.

"Kate, tell me what's going on!"

"If we're going to talk to each other, it has to happen on both sides," she replied in a hard voice, shouldering her bow with one arm. "Are you going to do that, or are you going to keep all your secrets from me like you have since you were compromised?"

If Natasha flinched, only Kate would ever admit to seeing it.

Things used to be so easy with Nat.

Kate hated it when kids grew up.

They didn't have to grow up to be brave. They didn't have to grow up to fight and protect themselves. They didn't have to grow up to be heroes. All of those things could be done without having to _grow up_ first (this being the main reason Clint was convinced Kate was in elementary school when she was actually forty and had a teenage son).

Nat had the whole world at her fingertips, but she couldn't see it, only Kate could. Natalia had grown up and stopped trusting.

Why did it have to be that way?

"Are you going to tell me everything?" Nat spoke in a low whisper, and Kate felt a brief thrill of hope.

She met her eyes squarely and nodded.

A small smirk worked its way onto Nat's lips. "What do you want to know, Hawkeye?"

The sunglasses came all the way off this time.

Pepper, carrying her high heels since she was shaking too much to walk in them, appeared in the doorway, her hair falling out of its tight ponytail.

"Natalia," Kate asked, her voice slow and even—now was the time she HAD to trust her. If she was correct in guessing why her friend had sided with Tony and Bruce instead of Clint, she wouldn't be able to handle this alone— "Are you pregnant?"

Natasha's mouth opened slightly, and Pepper's dropped almost through the floor. She shook her head. "What—no!" she denied immediately. "I can't get pregnant. Where did you get that from?"

"I know you can't get pregnant," Kate snorted. "And you said you wouldn't lie to me. But I'm asking anyway. Are you sure?"

Color drained from Natasha's face when she realized she was serious. "Nice, Bishop," her eyes hardened, and she backed away a step. Her voice sounded betrayed. "You're _too_ kind to me. Get out of here, and don't come back."

"Wait, who is she?" Pepper demanded. "You can't just walk in, vigilante-style, and kill an innocent woman! Do you know what Maria has meant to this comp—" her voice caught in her throat and she brought a hand to her mouth, gazing back at the lifeless body of her cohort. "What is that all about? Who are you and why do you DARE attack my employees in my own home!?"

Natasha held up her widow bites, ready to strike out with them. She and Kate met each other's eyes one last time.

"She was my friend," Nat replied, with finality.

… …. … … …

Steve ran his fingers along the edge of his shield, noticing the dent Krome had made for the first time. He thought long and hard for a minute, before righting himself and surveying the work everyone was doing.

They were back in the ghost town of Poggioreale, gathering supplies and working on formulating a plan of attack for when they returned to New York in a few hours. The room they had found in one of the abandoned buildings was surprisingly well-lit, with warm yellow light casting its shadows over his companion's faces as they worked.

Sam was busily working on his suit, with Bucky assisting. It had been damaged in the fight and they needed all their gear fully functional for the attack.

"Bucky, do you really remember everything?" he asked, brows knitting together. He scooted toward his friend on a chair that was relatively too small for him.

His friend smiled. "The important things," he replied, sitting up from his work. "Life before Hydra, mostly. There's a few bits and pieces missing, but nothing too surprising. After all, I'm over ninety years old. I should be losing my memory anyway," he jabbed with a grin.

"So it's like all this never happened?" Steve stared at him for a moment.

The smile disappeared. "Well, I wouldn't say that," he settled back, tossing his long hair out of his eyes and propping his muddy boots up on the table. Sam glared at him from across, and Bucky shot him an equally disgruntled response. "I have a feeling it'll all come back at some point," he returned his attention to Steve, "just as soon as my mind gets used to being normal for a change. It's a matter of time," he sighed a little, shifting in his chair.

"It's been a while," Steve smiled slightly, finding he couldn't do much more than stand there dumbly, wondering how his dead friend ended up sitting, alive and well, across from them cracking jokes about senior citizens.

Sam, Wanda, and Sharon raised their eyes to look at him when they heard the unfamiliar tone in the Captain's voice. It wasn't like him to get choked up over much.

Bucky cracked a grin.

"I thought you were dead, Buck. You know, if I'd known, I would've come—"

Bucky frowned deeply, on purpose. "Oh, come on," he groaned in a loud voice, interrupting him and looking around to the others. "Does he do this to you guys, too? He _always_ used to do this to me and our pals."

Steve opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Bucky cut him off again.

"Cut out the whiny, 'I'm responsible for everything that happens' nonsense," Bucky said sharply. "Seriously, I'm a grown man, Rogers, I can take care of myself," he started laughing at Steve's cut-off-midsentence expression and the others joined in, making Steve start laughing too in spite of himself. "He's always like, 'sorry everybody' this, 'sorry everybody' that, 'sorry for everything' all around," he explained to the others before turning back to Steve. "Get a life and quite apologizing, man!"

A spark of life appeared in Steve's eyes, the mischievous one the others hadn't often seen. "By that you mean get a girlfriend, you little prude," he tried to hide his increasingly boyish grin behind a battered-looking SHIELD file.

"I'm not a prude!" Bucky exclaimed in mock horror.

"But I got a girlfriend before you fell, jerk," Steve laughed again. "And who was left moping in the corner that nobody would pay any attention to him?" he pointed, before Bucky got to his feet with a comeback.

"Not MY fault I got dwarfed by a miniature goliath who nearly gave me a heart attack after finding me in the dungeons of Frankenstein tomato-head!" he scoffed, referring to Red Skull. "I woulda totally had her first, you know—if I hadn't turned into you. The skinny, sickly you, not this…" he gestured, cringing at not being able to really find a word to describe all that that was Steve post-serum. "…stupid you."

"Stupid me?" Steve choked out, barely able to contain his laughter. He laid his arms down on the table and tried to shove an arm over his mouth, but it wasn't working. "I could think circles around you, even when you were bigger!"

"Says the guy who picked fights with a trash can lid as a weapon. Oh, wait, that hasn't really changed much, has it?" he skeptically eyed the shield, which Steve held protectively to his chest.

Bucky pretended to sulk and exchanged a glance with Sam.

"Whatever. Maybe I'll turn into you again, now that you're huge, or some such crap. I mean, Hydra gave me the same stuff they gave you, so who knows. Maybe I'm a babe now. Maybe I should wear spandex. Ladies? Opinions?" he gestured to Sharon and Wanda. Sharon was looking vaguely unimpressed but amused, and Wanda was trying to hide her look of horror at imagining the Winter Soldier in skintight underwear.

"In your dreams doesn't count, man," Sam shook his head, chuckling. His suit had been laid aside to enjoy the show instead.

Bucky folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, yeah? Where is she now, then, punk?" he arched an eyebrow scandalously toward Steve.

The smile dropped from Steve's face as he glanced involuntarily toward Sharon. She bit her lip, a slight blush tinging her cheeks as she looked down at the floor.

"Ohhh," Wanda breathed, a smile growing on her face. "He's got you two."

Sam, having no shame whatsoever, whistled loudly.

Bucky raised both eyebrows in surprise, looking back and forth from one to the other. "Ninja girl? You have a type? Has he made a move yet?" he grinned toward the CIA agent.

"'C'mon, Cap," Sam cheered lazily, tucking his arms behind his head and tilting back his chair. "I think if you don't stake your claim there's gonna be another competitor."

Steve got to his feet and walked over to Sharon, who also stood and stumbled slightly backward, bumping into her folding chair.

"I dunno," Bucky whispered snarkily to Sam and Wanda. "She looks kinda nervous. He's scared too, see," he taunted in a louder voice, "Look how much he's sweating. You'd need three milk bottles to hold all that sweat. He's not as old as he looks, you know, that's just the serum. He's only like, twenty-two."

"Twenty-two?" Sam nearly launched out of his chair in surprise.

"Give or take a few years," Bucky assured him, nodding. "He was twenty-two when I last knew him."

"All right, well," Steve began hesitantly, then stopped.

"No pressure," Bucky grinned.

"Shut up, Bucky!" he tried not to laugh, and regained his composure, looking down into Sharon's beautiful, milk-brown eyes. "I didn't expect to do this quite so quickly, and I don't think you did either, but, here goes. Sharon Carter," he was laying on the charm now, leaning over her just enough for the look in his eyes to be overwhelming, "You're a beautiful woman, and you've taken care of me and of your aunt like no one else I can think of."

Sam pretended to be offended. Wanda just held a hand over her mouth, trying to contain a squeal of excitement and maybe a tinge of jealousy at all the attention Sharon was getting.

"You're a fine example of strength and courage, coupled with incredible loyalty, in a time of crisis, and I can't imagine anyone I'd rather have by my side in the thick of battle."

Sharon smiled at that, and Steve smiled back.

"While there are lots of reasons why a man like me would want to protect you, you're a fighter more than anything else. You deserve to be at the forefront of whatever you decide to pursue, whatever life you choose to have. But because I love you, I have to ask if you'll choose this one—" he got to one knee, "of becoming my wife?"

Sharon had only cried twice in her life.

Once when her mother died, and once when she was six and got her favorite kitten stolen by a playground bully.

She blinked back tears rapidly, trying hard not to let it ruin the moment. Sniffing loudly, completely undignified, she nodded in agreement.

The room erupted in cheers as Steve caught her up in a close, passionate kiss. She melted against him and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

Across the table, a gobsmacked Bucky, who'd had no idea Steve would go quite this far on the dare, leaned over toward Sam. "He came up with all that on the spot?" he whispered incredulously.

Sam shrugged. "Comes with the job description," he whispered back.

Bucky shrugged, settling back in his chair and averting his eyes from the enthusiastic couple.

Maybe he'd teased Steve a little too mercilessly.

Nobody seemed to notice how hard he was trying to make it seem like he was all right, though, so that was a good sign. The horrible crimes he'd committed lived past their due dates in the corners of his eyes.

The Russians would come for him soon; he was too valuable an asset to be left a loose cannon. Bucky figured he could either run or be captured. It didn't matter. The important thing was that, when they did, Steve was happy. And now he'd just assured it.

He smiled at the couple thinly. _"Mission Accomplished, Soldier,"_ he heard the growl like an audible voice in his ear.

Only practice taught him not to flinch. The voice wasn't real. Steve and Sharon were, and they were right in front of him.

Uncomfortably, he shifted in his seat, suddenly anxious to be on the move.

Wanda caught his eye, concerned, and Bucky gave her a subtle, sultry wink, causing the girl to blush profusely. Another crisis averted—he was getting good at this.

Sam gave a halfhearted snort when he saw it.

Steve and Sharon finally pulled apart, both of them glowing and breathless.

Sam reluctantly looked down at his watch. "Alright, we gotta leave soon to meet Ant-Man and the Wasp," he announced, lowering his repaired flight suit to the ground beside him. "Let's get this show on the road."

… … … … …

Smoke drifted across Manhattan Island, not visible to the naked eye in the darkness, but very obvious to one observer in particular.

Peter Parker sat perched on top of a skyscraper, wondering where it was coming from.

If there was smoke, there was a fire. And if there was a fire in Manhattan, there was probably a building with people in it that needed to be rescued.

Too bad his suit hadn't been made fireproof yet. He and his buddy Melvin Potter (a friend of Daredevil's, which the guy was nice enough to tell him about when they ended up as dumpster buddies one afternoon) were still working on that one.

He gracefully leaped off the edge of the fire escape and felt the wind catch him before shooting a web, swinging across the night sky in the direction of the smoke.

"Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, off to save the day again!" he yelled out to no one in particular.

… … … … …

 _October 24, 2001_

 _Upstate New York_

 _Clint never thought it would be so hard to sleep, out under the stars, with the open country all around and the city so far away._

 _This was where he belonged, after all._

 _All his girls were so close, too, safe where all he had to do was crack one eye open and see them all sleeping soundly._

 _It should've been a good day. Natalia's sweet sixteen was in the morning, and they had so much to be proud of. She was so happy now. So relaxed and settled in the American world, and in the first family she'd ever had._

 _For a girl jaded so harshly as a young assassin; for someone who, less than a year ago, had firmly believed killing whoever her supervisors told her to was the highest form of good in the world; and who had done just that every single day to be sleeping innocently, with her face buried in the golden fluff of a giant mangy dog in a tent covered by a canopy of New York summer stars, was just more than Clint could fathom._

 _He was too nervous to sleep._

 _A faint, sleepy moan roused him from the slight doze he'd settled into, and he rolled over on his stomach to see Nat turning in her sleeping bag. A frown worked its way onto his lips. Nat didn't stir in her sleep. That wasn't normal at all._

 _His eyes shot up to her wrist, even in the dark noticing that she'd tied it to the tent rod without any of them realizing. She'd tied herself up again. Why was she reverting back to that all of a sudden?_

 _Lucky stirred as well, lifting his head up and sticking his long tongue out in a wide yawn before licking his jaws and panting, staring across the tent at Clint._

 _Without warning, Natalia suddenly screamed, yanking her arm, still tied to the tent pole, so hard the entire pole snapped and half the tent collapsed on the campers, rousing everyone including Clint. He bolted across the small room, batting one of the poles out of the way, and grabbed Natalia, holding her down as she thrashed, still caught halfway in sleep and something that obviously wasn't there but was terrifying._

" _Nat!"_

" _Cuh-Clint?"_

" _What the—"_

 _Nat screamed again, the last one ending in a partial sob and her eyes flew open, fists flying. Clint caught one of them and took another across the jaw before Lucky bounded to his feet and put his paws on Natasha's chest, licking her face violently to wake her up the rest of the way. "Nat, wake up! It's just a dream, kiddo," he breathed, pausing to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. "Just a dream—it's all right."_

 _Natalia suddenly realized where she was and burst into frightened tears. Laura sat upright, coming to her side as Clint took her in his arms and Kate rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep._

 _Sobbing, Natalia clung to Clint's chest, badly scared._

" _Hey, hey, hey, hey," he murmured soothingly, "What's wrong? What'd you see? It's okay now. Just a dream."_

 _Natalia quieted a little, but her breathing still hitched violently. "I thought I had killed you," she finally confessed, clinging to him all the tighter. "Like I did before. I thought I really did it and you died."_

 _Clint's face went slack, and he held her tighter in his own grip as well. Across the room, he exchanged a glance with Laura and Kate. The other women gathered around Nat as well, rubbing her back and adding soothing words to what Clint was saying._

 _Laura pressed a kiss to Nat's forehead, and reached up to squeeze Clint's shoulder in reassurance._

 _Nat didn't let go of him._

… … … … …

 _Suddenly, the memory was over and the real nightmare began. Clint was on the other side of the tent, outside, looking in, while a teenaged Natalia thrashed and cried in her sleep, tied to the tent pole. Kate and Laura were gone, the fire outside burned brighter and brighter._

 _The smell of smoke began to burn in his nose, and he knew their campfire had caught the edge of the tent. The flames grew, enveloping the material until it surrounded her, cutting him off from the young assassin._

" _Nat?" he called out, unable to hear his own voice. He felt his ears—his hearing aids were gone. "Natalia?! Nat! Wake up!"_

 _A pained whimper came from inside the tent, calling his name. "Clint!" Tears rolled down Natalia's cheeks in her sleep, oblivious to the danger to her on the outside._

" _Nat, the fire's gonna burn you! You have to wake up and get out of there!" he shouted, no sound coming out of his lips. He tried to move, but he suddenly felt dizzy and fell over on his face. "NAT!"_

 _Hot. Fire everywhere. Natalia burning. Natalia dying, right in front of him. "CLINT!" she screamed as the tent caved in._

… … … … …

I woke myself up with a raw throat from screaming, something butting me in the eye. I blinked, disorientedly, to the interior of Kate's car and the door handle I'd been sleeping against.

I panted heavily. My heart was pounding against my ribcage. I still couldn't hear a thing.

That was because I'd apparently taken my hearing aids out, because they were resting in one of the cup holders to my left. I didn't remember taking them out. I grabbed them, my fingers working clumsily, like they were half-connected to my brain, to re-attach them to my skull.

Kate was missing from the driver's seat.

A piercing whine made me cringe the second I connected my 'ears' as Lila liked to refer to them. I looked up, ignoring the pounding in my head, and squinted.

What I saw didn't exactly register with an already fuzzy brain. I stared up at it, blankly, utterly unable to process what was going on.

"Aliens," I muttered to myself counting on one hand, "robots."

That was two.

"Then fire?"

The third.

"Aren't they supposed to be the other way around?"

The entirety of Stark Tower was engulfed in flames.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Another huge chapter! Should I split them up, you think? Alas, I am running into some plotholes! Let me know if there are any that particularly bother you, although I get it's kind of hard to tell where they are before I give you the end of the story. We have only a few chapters left! The end is going to be epic!**

 **No Clint in this chapter *groans* but have some Brutasha and Spiderman (:**

 **I have a tumblr! Follow me for tons of Hawkeye madness! robinhoodofourgeneration dot tumblr dot com**

 **Chapter 13**

Peter wasn't surprised the Avengers were up to something again. He didn't really want to get involved, not necessarily. Except—Stark Tower going up in flames? That was a little unusual, even for them.

Something must be terribly wrong, and if something was wrong with the rest of the world's superheroes, it was up to the lower-level heroes to save the day.

He swung low along buildings next to the one he had his eye on. He had no doubt Stark's alarm systems were the best on the planet. Sirens just down the street told him that help was already on its way, but this fire was much bigger than any the NYFD could handle on their own.

Easily, he swung through the chilled night air, up over the top of where the flames were reaching. Slick glass rubbed beneath his fingertips, warm from the fire that was roaring barely a story below. It was fast rising, threatening to engulf the entire building. None structure would survive this.

He squinted down at the pavement. Pepper Potts was waiting below, the famous CEO. She was surrounded by several dozen others he didn't recognize. It couldn't be everyone who had been inside, even at this time of night.

He peeked through the window, not seeing anybody, and headed jump by jump to the very top of the Tower. This was the easiest place to get in—or so he figured. The sliding glass door that led out onto the roof balcony was locked tight and there were no other windows. A security camera followed Peter's movements as he ran around and, without warning, a siren started going off wildly.

"Oh, great," Peter rolled his eyes. "It goes off for me, the cavalry, but not for the flesh-consuming fire right underneath of us. Come on, buddy, just let me in. I'm trying to help!"

H turned only to find himself face-to-face with a security robot, the same size and shape as a full sized human. "You are under arrest, imposter," it repeated in a thin, metallic voice.

"Um, before you do that, you might want to look down," Peter pointed, before swinging a fist to the distracted robot's head. It roped to the pavement. Peter peered over the edge, only to find the fire was spreading much more quickly than he'd expected. Already, it was reaching toward the third floor, and accelerating even faster toward the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

He rolled over only to find that a second security robot had replaced the first. It replied to his unvoiced concern by thrusting a gun into his face, detaching a pair of handcuffs from a hook on its side.

"Whoah!" Peter's hands shot up. "Okay. All right. Robocop. Don't kill me. I know your vocab is limited, but please tell me 'fire hazard' is in there somewhere?"

It reached toward his wrists to snap on the first one. Peter flung a clump of webbing toward the barrel of the robot's gun, kicking it over.

"Emergency! Emergency!" it began screaming as it writhed on the floor.

"Yeah, take that, tinhead," Peter grumbled, getting to his feet. Suddenly he was surrounded by at least ten other security robots. He froze. "Oh, come on! HOW?!"

Flames began picking up over the side of the building and he yelped. What kind of fire was that fast? He turned back to the robots, realizing, not for the first time in his young and eventful life, that his attempting to save some people was going to get HIM killed faster than anything.

He had a choice—brave the fire, or brave the guns.

He leaped over the edge, just as three robots launched themselves at him and caught him around the wrist. Peter gasped. He shot his webs to the opposite building, but it was too late. He was falling in the other direction. Frantically, he shot more in that direction. He swerved around to clock one of the robots in the head, then shot again, but—

He'd shot in the wrong direction.

He was heading straight into the flames.

Peter screamed as the web pulled tight and he crashed into the glass paned window that should have been molten hot, rolling head over heels into the tower, into the flaming—

Wait. Where did the fire go?

"That's Spiderman!" Bruce Banner's voice came from the corner of the room, sounding aghast.

"Who?" a female voice grumbled in reply.

Peter sat up slowly, blinking. There was no fire inside the building, none at all. In fact, through the hole he'd made in the window, the flames continued to lick their way up the building but with no heat radiating toward the inside. The tile floor beneath him was ice cool.

Peter slipped on it and fell on his butt, totally in shock.

Then Tony Stark himself came running straight toward him. Peter's eyes went wide. "What's going on over here!" the billionaire exclaimed, folding his arms as he stood over the teen. "Look at this mess. What are you, some kind of alien love child? Or are those your underwear?"

Peter bewilderedly looked over at the security robot, who was still attached to his now-sore wrist. "Darn good handcuffs," he shrugged.

Behind Stark, Dr. Banner came striding up, followed by a couple of young guys, a giant pillow-balloon thing with eyes, and the source of the female voice he'd heard earlier.

Peter's mouth nearly dropped open.

She was—

She was—

All of a sudden his suit felt very uncomfortably tight and hot. He licked his lips nervously and looked back up at Mr. Stark, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful chick with the short black hair.

"He's—um, that guy from TV last night," Bruce supplied helpfully.

A few seconds later, Stark's face suddenly exploded in recognition. "Oh, you're THAT guy! Spider—monkey or whatever."

"Spiderman," Peter groaned, holding out his arms. "It's not that hard to tell I'm not a monkey. Just saying."

Look, kid," Tony winced, "we're kind of in the middle of a top-secret operation here, so if you could just—you know—skeddaddle before my girlfriend and ex-spy assistant get up here and decide to strap you to a chair, or stick you in a closet, that would be great."

"O—okay," Peter started, holding up a finger. He'd just gotten in here, the whole Tower was on FIRE and he was desperate to find out how they'd done it, plus he'd just seen a really hot girl he had no idea how to hook up with if he left. "First, I'm not a kid, I'm in college and at the top of my bioengineering program, thanks. Second, you've already got three other 'kids' in here, so why don't you at least tell me how you did the living hologram?" he pleaded.

Stark seemed almost pleased. "Why would that not be a good idea?" he turned to Bruce.

"Ah—huhm, because he—he might be a spy from Cap's people," Bruce supplied.

"Right." Stark pointed at him. "You, Peter Parker, are more than likely a spy, so why would we even let you look around in here? Don't you have places to go? People to—I dunno, snap photos of or something?"

Peter's mouth dropped again. "You know my secret identity?" he spluttered. "How?!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "SHIELD. Can't say anymore or I'll have to kill you."

He folded his arms across his chest. "It's the middle of the night. What else AM I going to do with my life besides stay here and hang out? Sleep?"

Tony chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "I like this kid," he said at last, turning back to Bruce.

"Here you go again" Bruce muttered, pretending to work. "If you get arrested by child labor union, I'm not going to back you up."

Peter threw his hands up in the air. "I am twenty! You guys gotta be kidding me!"

"Then take your mask off and let us see," Bruce hid a smile.

Tony pointed again. "What he said," he demanded.

Peter had a feeling they knew each other so well they were like each other's personal communication service. One said something that didn't make any sense, the other took on the job of explaining.

He took a few steps back, mumbling about secret identities, but that chick was still watching him, VERY intensely, and he soon yielded. He pulled the hood back from his face, revealing his chiseled features to the group.

They sat in awed silence for a moment before Tony interrupted. "Oh! Your Majesty, I had no idea it was you in those spandex," he mock-bowed toward Peter. "Now, what do you want with my tech, now that you've established you're only around as a lonesome do-gooder."

Peter raised his eyebrows and held up his trapped wrist. "A handcuff-remover might be really helpful about now."

"Jarvis, Friday; release him kids," Tony waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Certainly, Sir."

No way," Peter started. Sure enough, the handcuffs clicked open. He grinned. "Sweet. What about that holoprojector? How'd you do it? Must take, what, eighty thousand megajoules at least? How do you power it?"

As if on cue, all the lights went out in the room and the group was plunged into blackness.

Tony started swearing, running over to his main computers. They were all down except for the big one that he'd routed to control the holograms outside.

The fire was still 'burning', but nothing else was.

"The charge from the projectors must have shorted everything else out," Bruce's voice came from the corner.

"That's just awesome. Kids? Any ideas? Looks like we're clear drained of power."

"It seems a breaker has exploded in your basement," Friday's mellow voice came over the intercom.

"I will be happy to provide a beacon of visibility," Baymax added, as he began to glow with a soft, orange light that filled the room like a large flashlight.

"I can see why Bruce liked you enough to put you in expo," Tony smacked the glowing robot affectionately in its round belly.

"That's Baymax for you," the taller kid spoke up with a smile, running a hand through his dreadlocks.

"Jarvis, what else is down?"

"Your security systems have also powered down completely, Sir," the A.I. responded.

"The entire tower is now completely vulnerable to attack," Friday added.

"I suggest you take refuge," Baymax put in. "The hologram outside only guarantees a 43% chance of safety for this building's occupants."

"Bu without Mr. Stark's Iron Legion technology, the battle against the occupants of Poggioreale will be stayed temporarily, perhaps permanently," Friday continued.

"This may allow enemies of the Excelsior disk technology to escape their refuge in Italy and come here with the intention to steal it," continued Baymax.

The three A.I.'s continued chattering in the background as Tony looked exasperatedly at Bruce, who simply grinned and shrugged. "You're the one who came up with artificial intelligence basically running the lab," he laughed. "You tell 'em to be quiet."

"Shut up," Tony said quietly. The three robotic voices stopped. The four younger scientists were left grinning in awe. "I have to go figure out how to get the disk running so we know where Rogers is at," he groaned, getting up from his seat. "You guys stay here and see if you can get my security drones working again. If you can't, I want to see if your microbots can somehow protect the Tower. I don't care about the lights—balloon man's got it covered, apparently."

"I can help with that," Peter spoke up, levelling his gaze with Tony's. "I read about your Excelsior disk in the papers. I thought maybe it could help me avoid bad press. I've been getting a lot of that lately."

"It can do that," Bruce spoke up, his tired face empathetic. "You're not the only one the news has looked on with—less than favorable—opinions. Excelsior's designed to help guys like us."

Peter faced Tony. "I know biomed engineering foremost," he explained, "but I also know wiring. I grew up doing a lot of electrical work with my uncle as a side job. I can get this Tower running. I know I can."

Tony's mouth evened out as he climbed into his suit. "Stay close to Bruce," he replied shortly, heading out of the lab.

Peter grinned, knowing that was as good as a yes.

"And stay out of trouble!" he called as the elevator closed.

The girl's eyes and his met, her issuing a challenging stare to see if he could actually pull off what he'd said he could. Peter's mouth went dry. "You're—" he gulped, "—stressful."

She gave him a look. "You're weird. Let's do this thing," she indicated everyone.

Peter mentally smacked himself in the back of the head. Seriously? Was he some middle-schooler drooling over a chick so hard the best descriptor he could think of was 'stressful'?

… … … … …

Sam yawned, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes, trying not to attract attention. He was in a dangerous position, about to meet with Scott and Hope mere miles from Stark Tower.

Then again, they were preparing to raid it within a few hours, so respectively the danger wasn't so significant.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver metal through the window, just quick enough to make him stand and crane his neck in that direction.

The waiting area he was in was comprised of long, futuristic-looking sheen white hallways with people-movers lining the sides.

He hid behind a tall plant and peered out toward the window again. Sure enough, even though it was several hundred yards away, the metal bot was hovering around just outside the building. Sam recognized it instantly. It was one of Stark's security bots. They'd fought enough of those during the Ultron fiasco anyway.

He was found.

How exactly had they gotten to him? He didn't have anything trackable on him. He hadn't even worn his wings. He'd left behind his cell phone.

Excelsior.

That was the only explanation.

It must be functional, or nearly there.

Sam gulped and tried not to make any sudden moves. Tony had all their information. He could track them anywhere. Probably Ant Man and Wasp were being tracked as well, since they had superpowers themselves.

He bit back a curse as he turned to look for them. He'd just put their two accommodating new recruits in mortal danger.

The sound of gunfire interrupted his thoughts.

He leapt up, dropping his glasses as he did so and struggling to stick to the sides of the room as the crowd began running, screaming, from one of the terminals. "Let me through, let me through!"

A man and a woman, both carrying large briefcases, came running with one of Stark's drones directly behind them. "Get down!" he called, pulling out the gun he'd managed o sneak in. He aimed it carefully at the cracks between the robot's armor plates trying to draw it off guard, and fired a few shots before ducking behind a bench.

Screams continued to echo around him as the security guards arrived, but fortunately, they were smart enough to push the people back instead of trying to engage the hostile robot. No doubt they were writing down the name of the company written on the side of the faceplate. Stark Industries would be hearing big lawsuits for this one, rightfully so.

No longer distracted by Sam, the robot followed the man and woman into one of the bathrooms.

"Oh, come on, man, "Sam groaned, "You have to change?!"

He crept up behind it, grabbing a potted plant as he did so. It was in a heavy ceramic pot and somebody apparently thought to water it recently. Sam grunted, heaving it upward and smashing it toward the robot's legs. "Take that, you nasty hunka—"

The robot whirled around and started firing at him, taking a scan of his face for future reference.

"Aw, no!" He ducked as the bullets flew over his head and rammed his shoulder into the solid steel, attempting to pry it apart with his bare hands.

"Alert! Alert!" It struggled to respond and pry him off. Tony's security guards weren't designed all that sophisticated, unlike his suits.

A window above them crashed, glass shards falling to the floor, and another robot entered through the hole firing shots from above. Same grabbed the other by the head and sprinted into the bathroom before he could get hit by the gunfire.

The woman was right behind him when he entered. "What are you thinking?" she demanded. "You're Sam Wilson? Are you trying to get us all killed? We only just got here!"

"Believe me, ma'am, we've got you completely covered," Sam wheezed, popping the head off the first guard and standing flat against the wall, ready to engage the second when it emerged.

"I thought we were going on a heist trip, not entering a warzone," Scott grumbled, emerging in his suit. The two grabbed their bags.

"Yeah, well, Avengers don't do anything halfway. You should know that about us."

"Wilson?" Hope barked.

He turned around. Security robots stood in front of each of the bathroom stalls. "How'd they get in here?" Sam was baffled. A pang of fear struck him as he realized they were all about to die.

Hope hit her shrink-thing on her belt first, transforming into a minuscule flying version of her previous self, and flew straight at the robots.

"Well, at least there's no question we're fighting for the good guys," Scott grunted, doing the same.

They took down the whole row of guards in a matter of seconds. Sam's jaw twitched with jealousy. "Wonder if Cap would let me get one of those," he muttered to himself. Another robot's leg appeared just outside the door, and he kicked at it with all his might. It tripped and fell and he grabbed its head, twisting it off like he'd done with the others.

With a sharp, 'WHIZ', Scott and Hope appeared, full sized, in front of him.

"I would've helped, but I was busy watching to make sure you two knew what you were doing," he folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, funny guy," Scott frowned. Hope mimicked Sam's posture, not impressed. "Just get us out of here alive so we can do what we really came here for, all right?"

… … … … …

"Surely we have a tracker for this kind of technology," Tony muttered under his breath. "Surely, somewhere in the lab, we have something that can track them so I don't have to do this?"

"I—I don't know what to tell you, Tony," Bruce left on his intercom so he could talk with Tony as he speeded toward the airport in his suit. "It's not only impossible, it's making us extremely vulnerable. They defeated the drones we sent to their rendezvous at the airport, so we have no eyes left. They could be anywhere."

Tony frowned. Their only chance was to have Excelsior all the way up before Cap and these crazy shrinking guys attacked and stole it. Since in the meantime they had no idea where they were, every millisecond counted. "Am I the only one who's gonna say anything about the fact that this guy's called 'Ant-Man'?"

"Love him or hate him, he could literally be inside your suit right now and you wouldn't know it," Bruce replied grimly.

Tony sniffed. "You know what, Bruce, I just decided to make a detour. I'm going back to Wakanda."

"What?" Bruce was confused.

"I'm serious. If I'm going to get that disk running, the only way is by using vibranium. I'm gonna try to sweet-talk that prince guy, see if I can get a couple ounces."

"You just destroyed his whole prison compound," Bruce reminded him.

"No, the creepy vibranium suit person did. We just escaped harmlessly. I'll offer to pay for the damage. That should get us on even footing, right?"

Bruce sighed. "That's insane. Cap and the others are literally in New York, right now."

"Then gather up everyone and leave, if you have to. Pepper knows what to do in emergencies like this. I'll be back as quick as I can, promise!"

"Right," Bruce groaned. "I'll talk to Pepper and Rhodes. Hopefully, Cap's not already here."

"Can't chat, gotta fly," Tony's voice took on a grim quality. "Take care of them, Bruce, you got me? This is the only way I can think of that might actually work."

"No, it's all right," Bruce sighed, noting his rare tone of seriousness. "I've got it covered. We'll be fine, Tony. Just hurry."

"Signing out."

Bruce turned off the intercom and turned to the young scientists in the room with him. "Still think you can get that security up and running?" he questioned Parker.

The college student nodded. Sweat poured down his face, but he was busy at work next to the control panels. "I think I've found the problem. I just need replacement parts, and Jarvis said Mr. Stark has them somewhere in the building."

Bruce's jaw tightened. "You've got five minutes or we're going to have to evacuate. You hear me?"

Peter nodded, turning back to his work.

"Come on, let's find these parts," Gogo gestured to Hiro, Wasabi staying behind to help Peter open up the panels.

Bruce, for his part, rushed into the hallway. He almost collided with Natasha, who he could barely see in the darkened building.

"Bruce, I gotta talk to you."

"Okay—you first."

"Maria Hill's dead," Natasha continued, breathless. "My old mentor killed her and left. Shot her through the heart."

"What?!" Bruce couldn't believe his ears. Maria had been such a steady ally. How could she just be dead? "That's horrible! Where is she? How did she break in?"

"She's with Clint," Natasha put a hand on his arm. "I don't know where he is, or even if he's here, but he could be on the loose in this very building, trying to destroy Excelsior."

"It's too late," Bruce muttered under his breath.

"Too late for what?"

"Evacuation. Tony was telling us we should get out, but they're already here."

"Cap isn't here yet."

"Is he?"

There was silence for a moment, the darkened room making it impossible for either of them to read each other's expressions. "I don't know," Natasha finally answered. "You think we would know if he was?"

"Natasha," Bruce said in a low voice.

Her own softened. "What is it?"

"If—I can't hurt them, then I can't protect you."

"Clint's already hurt."

"That doesn't mean he can't destroy the disk."

"Clint saved my life," she reminded him. "He saved everything about me, everything I am today. He also just named his son after me," she added dryly.

Bruce's frown deepened, and he took her gently around the waist.

"Bruce," Nat said softly, gazing up at him, "I've told you once and I'll tell you again that you're never a danger to me. But if YOU ever became that way—"

"You would kill me," Bruce answered firmly. "You would fight me or kill me or run away, whichever kept you and the baby safe—"

Natasha inhaled sharply, and Bruce gulped.

They had never even mentioned— _that_ , save for the fact that they both knew.

Truth was, they were both shell-shocked that such a miracle had even occurred. They were waiting for something, anything, to go wrong, but so far it hadn't.

It was too good to be true. It was almost as if, by saying it out loud, they were jinxing it.

"Clint would agree with me," Bruce insisted, sighing. "Let me do this for you; I don't care what the consequences are. Because if there is one thing, Natasha Romanoff, that makes me angrier than anything else, it's when somebody puts you in danger."

A little smile tugged at her lips. "Not something that happens often, eh?" she quipped softly.

"Lucky for them," Bruce smiled as well. Their lips ghosted over each other's.

"I wouldn't say me not being threatened by them makes them lucky," Natasha smirked.

"I would agree with you," he laughed slightly. They kissed, long and deep. "I'll be back," he whispered.

"Watch your back," she took the words right out of his mouth.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: It's been forever and I apologize. Sometimes I just don't know what to do with a story! However, today my inspiration returned to work on this guy a little more. Future chapters coming soon :P**

 **Chapter 14**

"Clint, I've got news," Kate announced over their shared comm.

I fumbled with it before managing to push the button. "You better have news!" I barked, eyeing the flames. "Are you in there? Where's Natasha? And you better not have drugged me!"

"You have a concussion, Clint, I didn't need to," Kate replied dryly. "The fire's not real. I've killed Agent Hill but Natasha isn't coming back and they're using the hologram as a defense mechanism. Hang on, I'll be out in a sec."

"No way, I'm coming in after you," I jerked the side door open and climbed out, pretending the ground didn't sway underneath of me when I did. Weren't concussions supposed to get better with time? This one was making my head pound so hard I could barely think.

"Clint, you dummy!"

"You're breaking up," I lied, tucking the comm in my belt. "Lemme talk to Nat. I can convince her."

A long, streaking sound echoed above my head. I looked up to see a quinjet, ready to fire, fly low over the Tower. Something minuscule, too tiny for the average person to spot, dropped from it as it passed.

"That's them. I know it. Cap's people just passed over. They'll burn this Tower for real, Kate. I've gotta get her out first."

"Clint, I am not hauling your ass around—"

"I'll do that myself, thanks."

Ignoring the rest of her protests, I painfully flexed my shredded hands and grabbed my weapons, only able to hold them at all because of the wrapping Kate had had in her glovebox (she gets beat up a lot, too. [Job description]).

This was the last fight I wanted to be participating in, but given Natasha, I didn't exactly have a choice.

"Okay, I'm coming in."

"You little—"

I sidled up to the side door for the fire escape and picked the lock in seconds. Soon, I could feel the blissful coolness of the inside air conditioning. Sure enough, the fire was as fake as it came.

Things used to be as simple with Nat as they were with Wanda.

Okay, that wasn't exactly simple, but she used to be so different back in the day. She used to TRUST me.

It was time to see if that pull still held anything, anything at all.

…

"Eyes on the bug," Sharon called out as they approached the Tower. "Scott, Hope, come in!"

She opened up the communication link, knowing she was risking something by doing so.

"We're in," Scott's voice came from over the line. "But there's a big, angry green guy just waiting to squish us like bugs."

"Please stop making awful jokes," Hope groaned over the speaker, grunting as she engaged in some kind of struggle. "We can't find the disk. Banner must have hidden it somewhere before he changed."

"Hang tight," Sharon replied. "I'm sending Steve and Bucky in after you."

"What about me?" Sam exclaimed, his voice also sounding through the speakers. Far away, still at the airport, he struggled to fight off dozens more of Tony's bots. He'd managed to help Scott and Hope sneak away (they were easy to hide when in their smaller forms) but he'd been fairly strung up.

"You get me and Wanda as backup," she smirked, veering the jet around in a wide circle above the Tower. She glanced back at the two men in the hold. "You losers ready to fly?"

"Buck," Steve was saying exasperatedly, "I don't need a parachute. I'm made of solid—"

" _Skin_ and _bones_ ," Bucky replied firmly, hoisting the pack on his back in spite of his friend's protests. "The same crap you've always been made of, punk. Now don't take that off, or you might just cause your mom to start stirring in her grave."

"That's cold," Steve winced.

"So am I," Bucky smirked, displaying his metal arm in a semi-threatening manner.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Drop-off is coming up in three. Two. One!"

Both of them leaped from the open hold, wind catching them instantly as the jet continued speeding away.

The high-rising top of the Tower came rushing into view, more and more quickly along with the rest of the New York skyline.

"Where's our target point?" Bucky yelled through his comm to Steve, having not seen the Tower before.

A low rumble echoed even through the air as it rushed past their ears. Suddenly, far below them, a huge green body came tumbling through the side of a tall building, and another roar shook the planet.

Steve blinked. "That's the one."

The two of them veered toward the roof, tugging at their parachutes.

…

Clint crept into Tony's garage, moving as quietly as he possibly could. He could hear the rumble from up above and he guessed that something was coming his way, but he had no idea what.

He only hoped he could find Nat and get out of there before something worse happened.

As if fate was reading his thoughts, a familiar red-and-blue suit suddenly appeared within his line of vision. "Oh, hey!" exclaimed a voice he'd heard before, "There you are! You were kind of hiding—"

Clint punched at him, which he blocked and countered with a few more of his own moves.

"—in plain sight!"

Parker slid out of the way of a few blows and projected a web toward the quivers on Clint's back. Clint grabbed the arrows himself and slung himself forward, all points extended toward the other's midsection. A sharp tug on the web, however, quickly spun him around in a circle, momentarily disorienting him.

"If you were hiding at all, that is," Parker continued, still sounding totally rested.

This was a walk in the park for him, but of course Clint was just getting warmed up.

"Last time I saw you, we were friends! I remember you from that dumpster, remember? And that guy with the horns? What was his name, Daredevil?"

Peter elbowed him roughly in the jaw, sending his head spinning again. It took him way longer to get up than it should have.

"Hey, what's wrong? Can't keep up, old man?"

He slid right over with the help of another web to the other side of the room.

"I could do this all day!"

Clint grunted in pain, getting up on one knee to draw his bow. "I could do it for a lifetime."

"You—just—don't—give up, do you?" Parker grunted, ramming him into the wall as Clint grabbed desperately for a pressure point, a muscle, anything he could use to fight back. The younger man finally backed off, shaking his head as Clint helplessly slipped to the ground, fighting back unconsciousness and gagging on the blood that was trying to come up from his stomach.

Clint's head ached and felt as though it was on fire at the same time. He couldn't think, everything he saw was too fuzzy to make out, his limbs had no strength left in them, and he knew from all the blood and by the fact that he couldn't seem to avoid curling in on himself that he was bleeding internally, a bad bleed since it was literally all over him and he didn't even know where some of it was coming from.

So why had Peter backed off?

The ground shook underneath. He knew without consciously thinking of the word that represented the big, hairy green guy. Hulk came bursting into the room, knocking the sliding metal doors to the ground with a loud CRASH!

Peter backed even further away. He kicked Clint's arrows over closer to him, as if that would maybe help to make the fight a little more fair.

Some kind of sick joke.

He was used to fighting when there was no fight left in him. There was literally no good reason to explain why he was still alive, after over twenty years of living with that mentality.

Hulk roared louder than Clint had ever heard him, his eyes red and bloodshot with rage as he charged straight for Clint.

Holding his breath against the surge of pain about to blow through him, Clint shoved his torso up and fell to the side where his arrows were. Hulk's fist came forward and he dodged, shoving one of the points into the back of his hand.

" _There's always a way out."_

Coulson's voice was pulsing in his ears. His old trainer had taught him that from the first day; never let him forget.

" _Always a way out."_

Clint gagged on his own blood, stumbling upward, but he managed to force himself to his feet.

" _It may not always be a good one, and it might get you killed. But Clint—"_

Hulk charged.

" _Don't ever let me see you sit there and give up when there's a way out."_

Clint put his head down and ran, straight under the giant Banner's legs, sliding underneath as his foot caught the ground and pulled him back down again. He moaned in pain, struggling to raise himself up a second time.

Hulk spun around, grabbing Clint by his left shoulder and yanking him upward. He screamed as the joint popped out of place, tearing muscle and ligaments and everything else in there.

Hulk was going to smash him against the steel-plated floor. Nobody could survive that.

Onboard the quinjet, over ten miles away, Wanda heard him scream.

 **Plz leave a review and tell me your thoughts!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **[In which things go from bad to worse, ehehehehehe! A little brawl on the lawn turns out to have MASSIVE repercussions when not addressed…]**

 **Thanks to The Spring Soldier, DarylDixon'sLover, and NerdGirl1210 for your wonderful reviews!**

…

"I have to go."

"Wanda?" Sharon called back. "What is it?" The spy tensed, feeling the electricity in the air as much as she felt intuitively that something was wrong. Wanda tended to have that effect on her surroundings when she was excited or stressed.

Tears pooled in the younger woman's eyes, and she leaned heavily against the jet's support beam. "I hear him," she breathed noisily. "I have to go!"

A long streak of red shot toward the front cockpit, startling Sharon away from the controls as it pulled the lever to reopen the hatch. "WANDA!" she shouted, as the girl flew out the back, her entire body glowing red as she took off through the sky.

Sharon's eyes narrowed as she struggled to keep control of the jet and watch her progress behind them. She didn't know whether to go back before Wanda's unpredictable powers caused her to drop out of the sky or to keep heading toward Sam by herself.

"Crap, I needed your help!" she exclaimed in frustration, fist pounding on the lever to retract the open hold. "Hang on, Sam."

…

Peter's insides shook from the terror of Clint's scream. He couldn't stand back and watch this. He couldn't believe this was him—that helping Stark would mean causing damage like he just had.

He had to do something; this wasn't right and he HAD to stop it, no matter what side he was on.

…

Clint felt himself suddenly go weightless, and drop, smashing into the floor. It wasn't with the massive force that would have been behind the Hulk's powerful arm, though.

Instead, he heard a surprised roar, as Peter swung by, working at breathtaking speed to wrap the Hulk's massive head in spider webbing. Angrily, Hulk grabbed and clawed at the sticky mess, barely missing Peter by inches as the spider swung from the overhead beams, wrapping first the rest of his head, followed by his arms, pinning them to his massive sides. Hulk realized what was going on and ran back toward Clint, intending to smash him underneath by trampling on him, but Peter raced around the giant's legs, pinning them together, and pulled on a clever string. Hulk began to fall, but instead of falling on Clint, he was pulled abruptly to the side and crashed, heavily, to the ground just beside them.

Peter dizzily backed off, breathing in gasps from the massive effort. He even pulled off his mask in an effort to cool down a little. Sweat poured off his face, and the smell from fighting bodies was starting to fill the room.

Hulk continued writhing on the floor, trying to get free, but just like a giant bug, the more he struggled in the webbing only made it worse.

Clint's vision swam, going red and then white and then hazy grey. He could have sworn for a second he saw Laura leaning over him.

He realized it was Wanda just before he exhaled, eyes rolling back.

" _Clint?"_ Kate's voice echoed in his earpiece. _"Clint! Where are you?"_

…

Wanda sprinted over to him the second she landed, red billowing out from her uncontrolled. "Clint?" Her voice felt raw and scratchy.

Clint lay flat on the ground, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He was limp and paler than she'd ever seen him before, even when they'd found him in Bulgaria.

Carefully, her white, slender hands ran over his skull, examining the dark, unnaturally soft lumps that crowned it. A sob escaped unbidden from her lips and she lifted his head into her lap, noticing his eyelids didn't even flutter. She burst into tears, hugging his broad shoulders weakly to her chest.

There was nothing anyone could do now.

The Hulk had killed him—Clint was dying.

…

Natasha snuck around to see if the fight was still going on, curiosity getting the better of her for once. Part of her didn't want to know if Clint was dead or alive, and another part—well, she'd protected him for so long, part of her just felt wrong leaving him without any backup whatsoever.

She rounded the door to the hangar, careful to stay in the shadowed part so she was completely unseen.

A horrific sight met her eyes.

The Hulk was there, bound and squirming wildly in a huge mass of spiderwebs, unable to get out. The more he struggled, the more he trapped himself further.

The sight was startling.

Natasha hadn't realized anyone was capable of actually stopping the Hulk.

Any other occasion, and Bruce would've been thrilled.

The other people she saw were huddled in another corner, far from the green monster's flailing limbs. Scarlet Witch was huddled over a limp body. In the glint of the hangar light, Natasha could see tears streaming from her eyes.

A single jolt of emotion struck Natasha's chest.

Wanda was sitting where SHE belonged—at Clint's side, holding him, whispering to him—a place she had forfeited because of this blasted war.

And because of her, he was also dead.

Subconsciously, her hand went straight to her still-flat belly as a single gasp escaped her. The fighting inside, the battle raging outside—two sides, neither in the right, completely vulnerable to each other's nonexistent mercy—with Maria dead, a disk in the control of her now-monstrous and encased-in-spiderweb-boyfriend, a huge battle erupting outside—there was nowhere to go.

The question of whether to fight on one side or the other had never been hers. She had made it quickly—too quickly.

She felt trapped. The Black Widow never felt trapped—when she was trapped, she always _ran._

…

"Is he alive?" Peter managed, leaning over on his knees as he continued to try and catch his breath.

Wanda's eyes flared a brighter red. "I haven't checked."

"Well, do it then! I know him. He's a good guy. He didn't deserve what we did to him."

"YOU?!" her face changed.

"I realize that now!" Peter begged, throwing his hands up in the air. "I was just trying to protect Stark. I did what I thought was right, I promise!"

Wanda was shaking, her position on her knees adjusting to look more like a tigress preparing to pounce on her prey. Red practically steamed from every inch of her skin. "YOU killed him?!"

Peter's face paled as he realized she was telling the truth.

Wanda exploded outward with mind-splitting scream. The whole building shook and blew apart from the inside, bits and pieces flying outward with hurricane-level force. Peter flew backward, as did the Hulk, but unlike the big green guy Spider-Man had no defenses against the rage-induced onslaught.

Wanda's power tore into him and within seconds he had totally vanished.

Destroyed, along with the rest of the Tower.

Wanda gasped, falling forward on her elbows, face streaked with dirt and sweat and grime and the tinge of blood on her lips. More of it trickled out of her nose and dripped on the floor as she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

She could feel it. She was telepathic and she could feel, even without trying, the edges of Clint's very soul slipping away, leaving a hollow shell.

Outside, the battle wore on. The sounds of explosions indicated Tony had probably returned—to find his entire building in shambles because of her. Sunlight leaked into the cracks of concrete and debris that covered them, creating a false cheer.

At last, her breathing slowed and she realized what she had really done.

Silently, she held out a jeweled hand as the truth sank in.

The spider-boy had been about the same age as she was.

He had even tried to help.

She hadn't even listened.

She was a murderer.

She groped for Clint's hand, overcome with a sudden urge to be close to him.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized it would never happen again.

Tenderly, she cupped her fingers over his cheek, brushing aside the blood and grime.

She looked into his mind, feeling the physical deformities-the bruised nerves, the broken electrical connections, the blood seeping out of the vessels, the scrape of bone plates, one against another. Try as she might, there was _so much damage_.

She didn't feel his heart slowing and his thoughts fading so much as she literally felt his presence dissolving through her fingers, and it made her panic, heart hammering out in her chest, swells of emotion rise up inside her. She took a deep, calm, steadying breath and focused instead on the feeling itself, on Clint.

It was a weird sensation. Wanda scrunched her eyes shut, attempting to concentrate on the strange side of reality she was sensing. She saw beyond the physical world now, what it was connected to by a thread, but not created of.

She saw Clint's life, his existence, like a swell floating in a cloud growing darker and dimmer, threatening to phase out completely. She gasped and grabbed onto it. Instantly she saw. Like a flash of lightning across the backs of her eyelids, the whole of reality, the tapestry of life he was clinging to. All of Clint was stretched out, his life past, present, and future extending up to the heavens like a pathway of color, of light. And it was growing misty. She sucked in a breath and reached out toward it, touching it.

Clint's body writhed underneath of her and she gasped, opening her eyes and instantly being wrenched from the dream world she'd just found herself in.

She blinked, unable to process what just happened.

"I have to go back," she whispered, the sounds of battle now echoing emptily in her ears.

He had been _right there_ , right where she could reach out and help him, and she'd missed her chance.

Slowly, she closed her eyes, reaching out for the same feeling she'd met with before. It took a while of groping around in the darkness before the light began to return again.

She saw Clint one more time, this time all the way from the beginning of his life, a timeline in vivid detail. She held back a choking sob at the sights that flashed before her eyes.

There was a blond-headed baby, straddled on the hip of a round-faced Italian woman smoking a cigarette and stirring a pot on the stove.

There were two boys sitting by a creek, the younger one laughing and splashing the older as a giant bullfrog leaped up in his face and he scrambled to catch it.

There were the boys again, older and locked in a playful brawl. Bruises and dust, and fists flying before a tall Frenchman arrived and barked at them to get up and back to work.

There was an acrobat high up on the stage, firing trick arrows from a gaudy bow as he winked and flew through the air for a cheering audience.

There was a pale, skinny kid writhing through drug withdrawal as a concerned young law student held him down and wondered if he should call the police.

There was SHIELD, and a man with an eyepatch, and the law student again, this time wearing the proud badge of handler and introducing himself everywhere he went as Agent Phil Coulson.

There was another Hawkeye, a girl with long black hair and a royal temper.

There was Natasha, a scared young teenager who seduced and killed for a living.

There was Laura, and hospitals, and dead faces, and nights out under the stars, and love, and babies, and—

There was them, Wanda and Pietro.

Wanda would have wiped the tears from her cheeks but she didn't want to lose the vision she was having. Taking a deep breath, she zeroed in on the present, watching the days and weeks and hours tick by until all of them were out before her for her to pick.

There was the Hulk, there was the accident-there was a few-minutes? Hours? Days? …before.

Summoning as much of her power as she possibly could, more than she even had moments ago, she seized onto the past version of Clint she wanted and refused to let go.

That single shred of reality thrashed and bucked and tried to throw her off, tossing her to the ground. It was doing the same with Clint's body, trying to fight the change she was wringing from Clint's past.

Time didn't like to be messed with, apparently.

Within moments, the vision disappeared and the mist cleared, leaving everything silent.

Wanda groaned and eased herself up from the pavement. She felt like she was going to be sick, and her head ached. "Clint?" she whispered hoarsely. "Please… "

Clint immediately sat bolt upright and opened his eyes, looking startled and disoriented. "What the-Wanda? The heck just happened-I was-what's going on?" he looked around, bewilderedly, at the fighting going on around them.

The blood and bruising were gone. Instead, Clint sported a smudge under one eye of paint, the same color he'd been using for the porch last week. _He was okay._

Wanda couldn't speak. Instead of wiping the tears from her eyes, she lunged forward and grabbed Clint around the waist, so tightly she nearly knocked him back over.

Clint was starting to get seriously freaked out. He awkwardly stroked her hair in comfort, looking around to try and figure out what was happening. "Wanda-I-I don't remember how I got here. What-was I unconscious or something? I was in the middle of finishing up the porch—Laura's gonna be mad—"

Wanda raised her eyes to his and sniffed, finally taking a calming breath. "Good," she smiled wobbly, "I thought you might forget a lot more than that. I was so scared-" the smile disappeared from her face as the weight of what she'd just done kicked in.

"W-what did you do?" he asked, realizing that something was wrong.

"I-" Wanda's breath caught in her throat, fear pervading in her eyes, "I brought you back from the dead."

 **Yes, Peter is dead, poor guy. Poor Aunt May. Wanda freaked; there will be even more consequences…yikes! And we haven't even touched on the main battle in a while! Leave a note and tell me what you think 3 Y'all are loves!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: You'll never guess, but—I haven't permanently abandoned this story! No way, right? I can hardly believe it myself, but I'm determined to finish, some way, somehow. Here's the next chapter; more to come. Thanks to y'all who have stuck with it despite hiccups :D You guys are awesome.**

 **Chapter 16**

Clint looked around behind for a second to make sure she was talking about HIM. "What, just now?" he blurted, not sure what to make of that.

Wanda had started hyperventilating. "Oh my gosh," she got to her feet and put a hand on her head, "oh my gosh, I did it. I really did it. Oh, my gosh." Her eyes were wild as she met Clint's for a moment. "I could bring back Pietro," she barely whispered. "And those people who died in Sokovia. Our parents-"

"Look," Clint's face had gone pale, "that's all well and great, but maybe we should talk about that later 'cause if we don't get out of here soon, we're gonna be toast."

"You were already toast!" she exclaimed, shaking. Her eyes were wide and flaming red. "You were dead. You were _dead-dead_!"

"Yeah-well-" Clint sounded a little overwhelmed, but he got to his feet, gesturing toward himself and then to her, "I'm not now, and neither of us knows what's going on, so let's-figure it out and save the day together, all right?"

Wanda looked down at the ground. "Is it wrong, what I did?" she whispered in a terrified voice.

"Look at me."

She did. Clint wasn't a very flashy or formidable figure standing in front of her. He looked like he was on the same page as her, uncertain but determined to do everything he could to get through this. His blue eyes were gentle and caring.

"Whatever's going on-whatever you did, whatever happened-it's over now, okay?" he said softly. "We can figure it out later. These guys need our help," he gestured around them, bewilderedly, since he apparently had no idea how the entire battle had begun. Wanda noticed he wasn't even wearing his mission suit—just his old farm clothes. He still had the expression he wore before a fight, though. "Where's my bow?" he muttered, finding it under a pile of rubble. He pulled it out, nocking five arrows to the string at once, and turned back to her. "Good chat?" he smirked hopefully.

Wanda took a shuddery breath, raised her eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. Good chat. Just like last time. Thanks, Old Man." She gulped, wondering if now would be the only time she'd have the guts to tell him about the boy she'd just killed in her vengeance, or if it would be a secret she carried forever.

"Alright then," Clint grinned determinedly, turning to face the skies. "Here goes nothing."

The battle had progressed from bad to worse upon the collapse of the Tower.

Civilians ran, bleeding and screaming, in all directions.

The Hulk had broken free and was trashing anything and everything he could get his hands on. It was nightmarish, the sheer number of buildings he was destroying in minutes. Ant-Man had somehow grown to the size of a four-story building and was attempting to take him on, so far without success. Rhodes flew in circles around the jet with Sharon in it, Bucky and Cap, Sam, and Natasha were nowhere to be seen, and Clint had ran right into the center of it.

Wanda's heart thudded in her chest.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

She could fix this.

Slowly, a breath stole its way from her lungs, time appearing to slow as she exhaled. Gathering power.

Surely, she could. She could fix all of it.

She fell forward, eyes closed, and suddenly all the noise around her vanished.

Time stood still.

 _Peter._

The Spiderling came first. She focused on him, hovering above his timeline before picking seconds before she tore him apart, wrenching him back into the present.

Everything returned and she stood, gasping, over the battlefield as a shocked-looking Peter stared back at her. She blinked, taking a huge breath, before returning again.

Back in the world with no time, she found the Hulk. _"Sleep,"_ she planted the command in his head, watching only from a dreamy distance as he fell to the ground with a crash, leaving the shocked Giant-Man swaying over him.

Another person who was dead, body lying crushed in the remains of the Tower, came to her.

She pulled her back as well, not even stopping to see the startled Maria Hill standing before her in reality before she plunged her way into one civilian's timeline after another, glancing over them, choosing one, drawing them up, _saving them_. It was easier every time—she didn't even have to stop between each one.

She was growing more and more powerful. _Nothing could stop her._ She saw Stark, rocketing his way back to help with the fight. She slammed him (in his suit) against a brick wall without lifting a finger. Ant-Man went to the ground, the Wasp's wings were torn off of her suit and she was lowered unharmed. She forced down Rhodes and the quinjet, landing them on the ground, decapitating them. Tearing apart their weapons with only a surge of thought.

Then she felt her power surge halfway across the world. Into Sokovia. Timelines went back into the battle with Ultron. She hovered mentally above the wreckage, even though her body was still in New York by the remains of the Tower.

She was looking for Pietro.

…

Rhodey had just slammed into Clint, forcing him to the ground just as Clint pulled out one of his arrows with the expanding tips. He ground it, porcupine quill-style, into the tiny crack between Rhodey's helmet and the rest of his suit, forcing him to let go before a shock temporarily rendered his suit useless.

"So," Clint pulled himself, breathlessly, to his feet, "remind me what we're fighting over, again?"

"How did you just break my suit?!" Rhodey seethed, aiming his guns in Clint's direction.

"You actually gonna shoot those?"

Rhodey flinched visibly, then fired.

Clint hit the ground face-forward with a loud groan, his leg having been hit clear to the bone.

Through a haze of pain, he rolled himself over quickly enough to pull another arrow at Rhodey, but the War Machine had already been swept off by Stark.

Clearly, the both of them thought a hit to the leg was enough to incapacitate him. Boy, were they wrong. Clint swallowed back a lump of bile that threatened to come up. He literally could remember being on the porch upstate. _Painting the steps_. He was even wearing the same clothes he had been, which implied his confusion wasn't all that crazy.

He wasn't sure what Wanda was talking about when she said he had died, but; what the heck could have happened to make all the Avengers go crazy against each other like this?! Rhodey, his sparring pal Rhodey, good man Rhodey had just shot his bad leg out from under him.

He'd suffered worse betrayals before, but surely, there was a better explanation for this than, 'you died'.

Then he heard Wanda screaming.

His response was instant, dragging himself upright, only to collapse in a fire of agony when he attempted to move his leg.

"Wanda?!" he called out, struggling to see through a haze of dust and smoke from the destroyed buildings around him. He assumed she was right where he'd left her, but right now, where he'd left her was nowhere to be seen.

A fluttery red–and-gold being floated down beside him.

He rolled over with a groan, finding himself face-to-face with the desperately guilty face of Vision. "What'd you do to her?" he immediately accused, trying to get his breath.

"I did nothing," Vision's voice was barely above a whisper. "She—she is destroying herself. She won't listen to me."

Clint stared at him for half a second, absorbing this information. Behind them, the Hulk and Ant-Man crashed to the ground. In fact—it seemed that— _everything_ was crashing to the ground. "Get me to her!" he shouted to the android above the noise.

…

Pepper groaned, trying to get to her feet in the rubble that coated the roads and sidewalks. What had happened? Had she fainted? That thought alone made her worried, and then she looked up and saw the Tower completely gone. "Wha—!" she struggled to keep from hyperventilating.

Then a long, slender metal arm came up under her throat, fingers pressing bruises deeply into her skin and collarbone.

Pepper screamed.


End file.
